Love and Its Glory
by lady-iceflame
Summary: Chapter Seven is Up! Serena's an exchange student from America, visiting Japan. There she encounters the obnoxious Mamoru and somewhat surprising inhabitants of Tokyo. The story is told from Serena's perspective. Please R&R.
1. Prologue

Love and its Glory: Prologue  
  
Originally Composed on January 10, 2002  
  
Author's Ramblings and Musings:   
  
Hey peeps, I'm here writing my second Sailor Moon fanfic, though it's   
the first one I'll probably submit. Since some fanfic sites I will be  
submitting this to don't include teasers, here's a short one.   
  
Serena has grown old and gray, and when the probing questions of  
her young friend dig up old memories, a love story is unraveled.  
  
I'm hoping that having readers will keep me up to speed and keep  
me from procrastinating like I always do. Hehe. After all, if I get  
feedback *hint, hint* I might find the incentive to go work at a good  
speed. Well, now I should stop rambling (note how much I make Serena  
do that, based on me). Now for the standard disclaimer that I feel is  
completely unnecessary  
  
Sailor Moon, all character images and likenesses are coprighted  
by Takeuchi Naoko, Dic, Cloverway, et al. The author of this fanfic  
is in no way affiliated with any of the copyright   
olders. No infringement is intended.   
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
I have always, from the moment I met her, loved Serena. That   
wonderful petite old lady next door to me. She sits in her whitewashed  
house with its tiny, perfect picket fence and blossoming rose garden,  
the envy of the local gardening society (the collection of all the  
other old ladies in the neighborhood.) Serena was above those petty  
things that the gardening society was concerned with, though, and  
winning a garden prize, growing prized tomatoes, or even showing off  
grandchildren was of no importance to her. Of course, Serena had no  
grandchildren to brag about, and even if it had turned out that she  
had, she was (thankfully) not one of those people who loved showing  
off their grandchildren to strangers through pictures in her wallet.   
  
I adored her warm, soft azure eyes with that special glint, that  
glint that most people only have when they are up to something or  
telling a big secret in a hushed, excited voice. Her wrinkled face  
would crinkle impossibly more whenever I came calling on her. She  
always looked somehow youthful, like there was a bubbly teenage girl  
waiting to burst out, though now the girl was a bit subdued by age and  
experience.   
  
Then one day when I came over for my weekly visit I found her  
sitting in her wicker rocking chair, swaying slowly back and forth,  
her eyes closed. I had ventured in to her unlocked house when I found   
that Serena was not in her regular spot, the porch. As I approached  
she stood, showing her age by her apparent struggle to do so. She  
managed a weak smile, more of a badly hidden wince than a smile, but I  
appreciated the effort. Serena found the tray of chocolate chip  
cookies that she always made for me, and held it out to me, though the  
tray was rattling horribly. I plucked the tray from her tiny fingers  
and placed it back on the table before I grabbed Serena's hands,  
velvety soft and trembling forcefully. I eased Serena back into her  
wicker chair, and she sank into it gratefully, wheezing. I was more  
surprised than ever. Usually if I had tried to make her sit down she  
would have clobbered me. It concerned me, her decrepit state. Serena  
never acted this way, and by this way I mean old. All of a sudden she  
was arthritic and asthmatic and easily tired. She adjusted herself in  
her chair and began to doze.  
  
I took the time now presented to me to look around at my  
surroundings. I had been her thousands of times before, and the  
scenery was always the same, the Persian rug in the living room, on  
the edge of which Serena had positioned her wicker chair, a mahogany  
bureau, and various other furniture that one would expect. Much to my  
surprise, the room was not the same. It was covered in clothing and  
dust, something Serena never tolerated. Dust motes were floating  
freely in the air, highlighted by the sunlight coming through the  
window, meandering slowly in circles and twirling. The settee,  
usually accented by a throw, was instead accented by a week s dirty  
laundry. My attention snapped back to Serena when she shifted in her  
chair again, sleeping now.   
  
She mumbled something and began twitching, her muscles trying to  
complete actions that they could not in Serena's dormant state. I  
leaned closer, trying to make out her breathy, gasped, quiet  
mumblings. I faintly made out the name 'Mamoru' before Serena snapped  
into consciousness, pushing herself up so that she was directly in my  
face. She had the look of someone cursing their age and their state  
of weakness. While we stared each other in face a million thoughts  
ran through my mind. I wondered at the name Mamoru, briefly skimming  
over the idea that Mamoru was an old beau, a relative, a friend from  
the past before pushing all of those ideas aside. Mamoru must be some  
manager of a store that she must call to complain about the service  
she received or some such thing as that. After all, Serena had no  
relatives, and no friends but me (something I steadfastly refused to   
believe until Serena showed me all of the programs from funerals at my  
insistence that she must have more friends each program was for a   
different friend, the oldest being fifty years old); if she had had   
an old beau, certainly she might have married him or kept in touch at   
least; if they were not close enough to each other to do so, then he   
would most certainly not be memorable enough for her to dream about.   
My head began to cause me pain so hard did I wonder. Finally, Serena   
spoke, pulling forcefully from my musings. "Is there something wrong   
with the cookies, Sienna?"  
  
I giggled slightly. Of course something as irrelevant as that  
would pop out of Serena's mouth the minute she awakened. As I shook  
my head, the siege began.  
  
Curiosity slowly began to consume me, as insistent as those  
annoying little children who find incredible glee in poking you in the  
arm, and will not stop no matter how much one tries to suppress them.   
"No Serena, the cookies are perfect as usual," I sighed. Should I do  
it? Would it be rude? Would she be offended and annoyed? Probably yes.   
Will I regret this? Most likely. Oh, what the heck, I finally decided,  
and I fired. "Serena, when you were sleeping I heard you mumbling a  
name. It was Mamoru." Serena's face darkened slightly, but I  
continued anyway, being the fool that I am. "Well Serena, hearing you  
mumbling names in your sleep made me realize that even though I have  
known you since I moved here two years ago, I really know nothing  
about you. Would you share a little history?"  
  
She stood up, holding the chair with a death grip, trying hard   
not to collapse into it again, and looked me straight in the eye. Her  
mouth was no longer set in a smile but in a grim line, and her eyes  
were no longer crinkled pleasantly. "You want to know something about  
me, Sienna?" The way she hissed my name sent tingles down my spine,  
and I felt myself stepping back as Serena leaned closer. "Well, here  
it is. I'm a depressed old woman who has lived in this house almost   
all of her entire life, trying desperately to cling to happiness and   
forget pain as all the people I knew in my youth give in to death or   
move away. I was born into a boring family, had a boring life, and   
plan to continue to do so through the rest of my days."  
  
My mouth began moving, but no sound was produced. Serena had  
never been this snappish or this depressed. I tried again, though I   
was acutely aware that elderly lady's tirades might pursue once again.   
"Do you have any friends left, Serena?"  
  
Serena's eyes softened, turning back to their real color, no  
longer a stony gray. She collapsed back into her chair and grasped my  
hand gently between her aged fingers. She patted my hand absently and  
said, not really looking at me, "I have you left, Sienna. You are the  
friend that I have left to me. You are all I need."  
  
I hear the lie in her voice, the regret, and the acute sorrow.   
Serena was not lying to me, exactly, for she never lied, but rather  
she was being her kind old self, trying to assure me that I was the  
only source of attention, that I was her only friend, and would hold  
on to that position. Even though I loved the fact that I was so  
important to her, Serena's new physical and mental states bothered me.   
"I meant friends from your youth, Serena, people that have been with  
you all the way."  
  
Serena's hands fell to her side, and I immediately felt the loss  
of her warm, kindly touch. I saw her straining, arguing with herself,  
digging up old memories, ideas, thoughts and pains. Her voice came  
out feeble. "Yes. Yes, I do believe that there is one friend from my  
youth who still lives. She lives at a Shinto temple in Tokyo. Now  
that I think about it, I'm sure that she's still there. There's no   
where else she would be. We grew apart I fear; age, trials of life,   
and words came between us. I do not think that she will ever forgive   
me for what I've done. We did and said horrible things to each other,   
but what I did to her, now that cannot be beaten. How I wish I could   
turn back time. Many people wish that I suppose, and most realize that  
it would not be a good idea in the end. Everyone has something they   
wish they had not done, not said..." and Serena rambled off, talking about   
time travel, losing friendships, and other such things.   
  
I stopped listening to her. At one point she managed to stand up   
and travel to the kitchen, and I could hear her, still babbling on, though   
her voice was faded and clogged by the walls now between us. I found   
myself standing in the hallway, contemplating. Of course Serena's only   
living friend would live in Japan. I was beginning to think that fate had   
a plan to make my life as complicated and difficult as possible. I mean,   
where would I find the money to transport her here. And even if I got   
Serena's priestess friend to come here, was there any reassure than they   
could forgive and forget? I was not sure that I should take that chance.   
  
Then I stopped. Why was I even contemplating this? Sure it was   
sad that Serena's friends were all gone, but was it really my responsibility   
to bring her only friend back to her? I suppose it might be my duty as a   
friend, but a broke teenager cannot do much.   
  
The more I thought about it, the more impossible it seemed. I   
gave up for the moment and sauntered into the kitchen, but not before  
grabbing a chocolate chip cookie. After all, no matter what the  
circumstances, the cookies could not be forgotten. Yes, they were  
that good.   
  
Serena moved into her family room with its dilapidated couch and  
huge television. It was funny that she had it, considering that she  
never watched television anyway. Oh well, perhaps it was there with  
the faint hope that somebody other than I would come to visit her.   
With a suddenly sprightly step she walked to the desk and began  
hurriedly pulling out drawers and rustling the papers in them,  
searching for something. Finally, when she reached the last drawer,  
she let out a sound of triumph and pulled out a rectangular object.   
She brought it over to me, leaning heavily on any furniture that was  
in her path.   
  
At last she joined me on the couch, flopping heavily down next   
to me. She handed me the object, which turned out to be a picture frame.   
I turned it the right way up and looked. It was a picture of young people   
gathered together, grinning with elation. I smiled; they all looked to   
happy and carefree. On the left side there was one pair, a tall boy and   
a petite blond haired girl, and he held her in his arms, tilting her head   
downwards. She seemed to be wriggling and giggling, teasingly pushing   
herself out of his arms, but still managing to look at the camera.  
  
Serena leaned over hurriedly, apparently anxious to see my   
reaction. Finally she pointed to the struggling blond haired girl.   
"That's me. Oh, how youthful I look. I believe that I was seventeen  
when that picture was taken. Well, actually, now that I think about  
it, I'm sure that I was seventeen. I remember every detail that led  
up to the picture, and everything that came after it."  
  
I nodded apathetically. I was still in shock at seeing a young  
Serena. Wow, I thought to myself, she was gorgeous. That was the  
only word to describe her, and even that was not good enough. She was  
the kind of beautiful girl that I had always wanted to be, perfect  
looking every way, and from the time that I had spent with Serena,  
almost perfect inside, too. I sighed inwardly. No one should look  
that good and not be conceited and vain. I turned to Serena,   
struggling to see the teenage girl that she had identified as herself  
in the picture. Her face was wrinkled beyond recognition, but her  
eyes were still the same bright blue. Right now they were even  
brighter than usual, which I had not thought possible.   
  
"And that," Serena pointed to the picture again, "is," she  
choked, "Mamoru." I focused my attention on the man holding Serena.   
Just when I thought I could not feel any more ugly, I saw him. So  
basically Serena was a Greek goddess and she had her handsome  
boyfriend, so well formed that even the Greeks could not have chiseled  
a statue that perfect. What were these people, mutants? Well, even if  
Serena's relationship with Mamoru had not lasted I could understand  
why that face might still haunt her dreams.   
  
"Serena, what happened to Mamoru? I mean, you look so perfect  
together."  
  
Serena grimaced and leaned back into the couch. "It's a long  
story, and there is no guarantee that I will not fall asleep in the  
middle of telling it. To tell you what happened to Darien, I have to  
start from the beginning, from the moment I met him, for that really  
was the beginning; of many things. It may be boring at parts, as most  
stories are, but if you really want to hear it I will tell it to you.   
It was some time ago. The story begins at around the turn of the   
millennium, when I was a teenager. You might regret asking to hear this   
story, I mean, after all, I am over one hundred years old, feeling every   
year, and I ramble on a lot more than I used to."  
  
Ok, so I only paid attention to half of what Serena had been  
saying since I arrived and selected certain parts to hear, the parts  
telling me that I might be in for a juicy story. Then that second to   
last sentence that Serena spoke snapped me to attention. Hold the phone.   
Serena was alive during the turnover to the millennium we were currently   
in? That must be a world record or something. I mean, after all,   
it was 2120.   
  
Now my curiosity was sparked once again. "I want to hear your  
Mamoru story, Serena, but first I want to know. Exactly how old were  
you at the turnover of the millennium?"  
  
"Sixteen," Serena stated simply.  
  
How was it possible that Serena was 136? No one could live that  
long. Serena really was one of the great mysteries of the world.   
Come to think of it, considering her age, one of the ancient  
mysteries. No wonder all of her friends had given up to death.   
Perhaps my thoughts were harsh, but it was pretty spectacular.   
Finally, I decided that I might as well hear Serena's story, as she  
was so eager to tell it, and I must admit that I was more than I  
little anxious to hear it.   
  
"Are you ready now, Sienna?" I nodded complacently and she  
began.  
  
"It all began around the time I was sixteen, at the turn of the  
millennium, as you already know. I was staying in Japan for a year   
as a foreign exchange student, and I remember that I lived with the   
nicest Japanese family. I think I can say with accuracy that the mother  
was named Ikuko, the father Kenji, and the annoying little twerp they   
called their son,Shingo. Yes, well, moving on, it started on my first   
day of school. I was oh so nervous about the new kids I would meet, and   
I spentcountless hours praying that I would not embarrass myself with my  
foreign knowledge of Japanese. I was expecting the sort of treatment  
that American kids force upon their foreign peers, that cruel,  
unsympathetic, unfeeling torture. Well, I got to my first class with  
all of the horror stories about foreign students in mind, and that is  
when it began, the love story I mean."  
  
Serena continued, and soon the soft lull of her voice made me  
close my eyes, and I could see the whole story playing in front of my  
eyes, according to picture that I had seen of Tokyo, and the group  
picture I had of Serena and all her friends. The story became all too  
real to me, and I finally let up the last of my resistance and fell  
into the tale.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Hello everyone (again). I hope you like the story so far. Forgive me   
if it's amateurish, but I'm  
new at this story writing/fanfic writing thing. Feedback would be so   
greatly appreciated, as well as reviews.  
My email address is icefaerie0719@angelfire.com 


	2. Life's a Bitch

Chapter One: Life's a Bitch  
  
Originally Composed on July 23, 2002  
  
  
Quote: "Only two things are infinite, the universe and human stupidity,   
and I'm not sure about   
the former." --Albert Einstein  
  
  
Standard copyright notices apply.  
  
Author's Notes: Wow, I haven't written in a really long time. I'm so   
lazy. Well, here's a chapter. It takes so long to write so little.   
It really depresses me, sometimes, but I at least came out of my   
writer's block or writer's laziness. Well, I hope you like the first   
chapter.  
  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
  
I awoke with a start in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar room, in   
the unfamiliar house of my host family, the Tsukinos. The room was utterly   
pink. It had pink walls, pink ceilings, pink carpeting, and fuzzy stuffed   
bunnies all over it. It was utterly nauseating at first, but I had almost   
grown to like it in the 48 hours that I had been in Tokyo. Almost. I rolled   
over and looked at the alarm clock, which was in the shape of a Sailor Moon   
doll, and was yelling cheerfully in an incredibly high, digitized voice,   
"Good morning!" over and over again. The clock on the clock/radio read 7:15,   
which meant that I had to get dressed, eat breakfast, and get out the door in   
twenty-five minutes. I wasn't sure whether or not to collapse from despair,   
or chuck the alarm clock, which was still saccharinely yelling, "Good   
Morning!" against a wall. I chose the latter.  
  
Unfortunately, in order to reach the alarm clock, I had to reach   
across the bed, and the momentum from throwing the object, as well as the   
angle at which I was positioned could not defy gravity for long. It was   
at that point that I fell off of the bed with a thump. Disentangling   
myself from the sheets which were still wrapped around my feet, I   
raised myself woozily. I groggily dragged my feet across the ground in a   
way that resembled walking to the closet. Sprinkled around the doors was the   
sad, mangled, and broken corpse of the super-deformed Sailor Moon alarm clock.   
I only noticed the pieces because I stepped on one of the broken-off   
pony tails, and had managed to lodge it jaggedly into my foot.   
  
After painstakingly removing the sharp, yellow plastic from my foot, I   
opened the closet, which had been consumed by the Juuban High uniforms, which I   
desperately desired to lacerate. I glanced longingly at my street clothing   
before selecting one of the uniforms, and placing it on my personage. This   
little activity by itself had taken ten minutes, so I stepped on the gas pedal,   
and pulled my blonde hair up into two messy odangos, which were already falling   
apart.   
  
After deciding that taking the extra time to fix my hair would not be   
worth it, I dashed across the room, threw open the door, raced down the hallway,   
and half ran, half fell down the stairs. As I reached the bottom, I slid across   
the wood floor in my socks. Thankfully, before I went flying off of the stairs   
that led down into the house's entryway, where we left our shoes, I slid into Shingo,   
who caught me. Shingo was two years younger than me, so I suppose that he was   
fourteen at the time, not that that's really relevant.   
  
He grinned like I had just done the most idiotic thing in the world,   
which was of course an endless source of mirth for him, and walked into the   
kitchen. I followed him haggardly. Ikuko, my host mother, was preparing   
breakfast. Shingo and I sat at the table staring at each other. He was making   
faces at me, and I sat in a jet-lagged stupor, so basically I just stared   
blankly right through him. Ikuko glanced at her watch, and she looked over at   
me. "It seems that we're all running a little late this morning. I would a   
write a note for you, like the one that I will be writing for Shingo, but you   
aren't my child. So, Serena, dear, you had better get going if you want to make   
it to your first day of school on time." With that charming sentiment, she   
chucked a piece of buttered toast at my head and winked.  
  
I managed to catch the toast, which I still secretly believe she was   
attempting to use as a projectile weapon to knock my head off. I shoved the   
toast into my mouth, and ran, only again to slide across the floor. I caught   
the door frame with my right hand, and swung around, carrying myself into the   
hallway. Snatching up my shoes, and hobbling along hunched over as I tried to   
place them on my feet, I managed to open the door.   
  
To say that I took a bite of my toast and walked out the door calmly   
for the first time that morning would be a lie. In fact, I ran like a madwoman   
being chased by a large, feral cat, since Ikuko had taken until 7:50 to decide   
that I was only going to get toast and have to run to school. I had already been   
guided by my host father, Kenji, to the school, so I had a pretty good idea of   
where I was going. I briefly noted an arcade, Crown Arcade, and decided that I   
would check it out later, after school. Just as I was a block away from school,   
I ran into something very hard, bounced off, and fell over onto the ground. I looked  
up and saw that I had run into - a bench. It honestly could have happened to anybody,   
and I am quite sure that I was not the first to have run into it.   
  
I quickly brushed myself and managed to make it into the school yard   
two minutes before the bell for the first class rang. I immersed myself in the   
seething mass of students entering the building. I followed a girl with bright   
blonde hair, obviously dyed, I thought who looked to be about my age, and prayed   
that she was in my class. Perhaps luck balances itself out, because she was going   
to the right class. I entered the threshold that was the classroom and found myself   
a seat. The rest of the students filed in. The tall girl (or at least I thought,   
though it is hard to judge height when people are sitting down) with brown hair,   
sitting in the desk next to mine, leaned over and said, "Hi. I was wondering   
if you would mind finding another seat. I was really hoping to have my friend   
sit in the seat that you are currently occupying." She looked at me beseechingly.   
  
I leaned back over and responded, "Actually, I really don't think that   
I would consider moving. You see, I find this seat exceedingly comfortable, and   
rock-hard, wooden chairs go. I'm afraid that I'll have to be a wedge between you  
and your friend for just this class." I have no idea now what came over me in the   
moment. Under normal circumstances I would have gladly moved, but not on that day.   
I tried to keep from sneering, but I'm guessing from her agitated look that I did   
not completely suppress it.   
  
All of the seats were filled up by now, except for one, which I   
supposed was going to belong to my brown-haired peers friend. And there he was,   
strolling into class at the last second. He had black hair that seemed not   
to reflect light, but to consume it. At that distance I could not tell what   
color his eyes were, but I could see his pale skin, which seemed less than   
ordinary, considering that it was a sunny, nice part of the year. I   
suppose that with a little tan, and from a distance, he could be called rakishly   
handsome, gorgeous, amazing, etc., but I was not that impressed. He looked up,   
his eyes scanning the crowd. He spotted my brown-haired acquaintance, and waved.   
  
The distinctive sound of a chair scraping against a linoleum floor was   
audible, and I looked up to see my desk-mate, or whatever it is that people call   
them, running towards him, grinning madly. She embraced him in what seemed to be   
a friendly, but not intimate manner, and he wrapped his arms around her. As much   
as I despised the word, I had to grudgingly admit that the scene was cute. They   
released each other, and she said something inaudible to me about something. She   
then pointedly scowled at me, and said something else. He glanced up at me, and   
I finally saw his eyes, his smiling, depthless, sapphire eyes trapped on an   
expressionless face. They were the kind of eyes that show something inviting, and   
trap you forever once you enter their depths, their cage. People with eyes of   
that nature, in my experience, only lead to trouble, and the man before me would not   
prove me wrong on this theory.   
  
While I had been musing the pair had separated, and gone to their   
respective seats. It occurred to me, that unless I had a sadly skewed sense of   
time, about ten minutes had passed since I had walked into the room. Curiosity   
convinced me to look at my watch, and it was in fact 8:12. I was more than slightly   
peeved. Why had I bothered to get up and stress myself out getting to school on   
time when the teacher decided to be fashionably, or rather, annoyingly late?   
  
My new 'friend', and desk peer, slid into her seat. The sound of a   
door opening alerted me to the entrance of our teacher, whose name, Haruna-sensei,   
was scribbled on the black board. She had orange hair, and seemed to me to be a   
30-something, lonely, single woman who was having a dating slump. Educational   
institutions seem to breed these sorts of people. She dropped her handbag onto the   
desk, and pulled a piece of paper from a drawer within the aforementioned furniture.   
She perused it, ignoring the whirring hum of conversation all around her. Haruna-sensei   
suddenly stopped in her activity, picked up a ruler, and slammed it loudly against the   
board. The class quieted, and Haruna-sensei dropped the ruler onto her desk, next to her   
handbag, with a satisfied smirk.   
  
"Alright, class, we have a couple of new students. The first person   
is Aino, Minako. Minako, please come down here and introduce yourself. Let's give her   
welcome, class." Haruna-sensei did a small golf-clap, and the girl I had followed   
earlier walked up from the back of the class to the front. I felt a little embarrassed   
that another new student, just as new as me, knew her way around the school better than   
me.   
  
Minako spun around and placed her hands behind her back. She seemed   
entirely too happy in my opinion for a high school student at 8:20 in the morning.   
Her loud, energetic, mirthful, slightly British voice filled the classroom with,   
"Hello, everyone! My name is Minako, and I'm a new student from Liverpool, England.   
I moved here with my parents a week ago. I'm really looking forward to meeting everyone."   
She flounced back to her seat and sat down.   
  
Haruna-sensei smiled politely, and glanced down at the list before   
announcing the name that I dreaded, "Blake, Serena."   
  
I solemnly trudged down the aisle, looking like absolute hell. I   
turned around upon reaching the front of the class, and deadpanned, "I'm Serena.   
I'm a pushy, loud, and exceptionally rude American." I heard a couple of   
chuckles. "I will be staying here for two trimesters as an exchange student.   
I look forward to learning more about your exciting culture, and meeting some of you."  
  
I staggered tiredly back to my chair and practically fell into it. I   
could hear some snickering, so apparently my tone had conveyed that I really was not   
looking forward to meeting new people, could not care less if everyone fell off of a   
cliff, and was so seriously sleep deprived that it was more likely that I myself   
would wander off of the cliff in a sleep-deprived, brain-dead manner. Well, I   
could make up for first impressions later, if I really wanted to, I supposed.   
  
Now that the introductions were over and done with, Haruna-sensei   
instructed everyone to read the first chapter in the Algebra II textbook, and   
after sitting down at her desk, began flipping through her address book. I   
stared blankly at the first page until class ended, and Haruna-sensei assigned   
the class some problems from the first chapter, which she had not bothered to   
explain at all. I bumped into the brown-haired girl as I was getting out of my   
seat, and mumbled an apology, which I'm not quite sure she heard.  
  
I walked outside of the classroom to my locker, locker number   
twenty-seven. I turned the combination lock, the combination of which was   
stuck to the back ofthe lock, supposedly easy to remove. Well, predictably,   
nothing happened, and the lock stuck. After trying the lock for what felt   
like fifty times, I gave up and began to kick it and pummel it, releasing a   
string of epithets as I went. If I haven't said it before, I will say it now.   
Life's a bitch. All logic abandoned me, and I began to frantically and   
neurotically slam my head against the locker. I stopped my banging when I heard   
a chuckle behind me.  
  
I spun around, surprised. It was the black-haired guy. "School can't   
be so bad that you're already injuring yourself after one period, can it? My   
name's Mamoru, by the way It's a pleasure to meet you. If you'll let me, I could   
help you with the lock."  
  
To say I was suspicious would be an understatement. Why was he being   
nice to me? Well, I was tired of trying to open the cursed locker, so screw   
consequences; I would let him help me. In my most relieved voice I proclaimed,   
"You already know that my name is Serena. I would really appreciate it if you   
would help me with my locker."  
  
He nodded and stepped past me. "What's you locker combo, Serena?"  
  
"30-17-4," I responded in my best attempt at a nonchalant way.  
  
Well, you can guess what happened next. It seemed that Mamoru had the   
magic touch, because the locker opened. When I saw the contents it contained,   
I wished that it hadn't. Obviously the locker had been neglected,   
and not used to years. I say this only because it had dead cockroaches littering   
its floor, and the remains of lots of different contact papers on its walls. What   
I did when I saw it was not exactly cringing. That is too weak of a word. Rather,   
I did something akin to gasping in horror and shuddering.   
  
Mamoru glanced down at the locker, shook, his head, and muttered,   
"Well, see, you around - Odango Atama." He then sauntered off.   
  
Had I not been in a state of utter shock, I would have decked him. I  
had a mean right hook at that time in my life. It was obvious to me that he was   
referring to my unusual hairstyle of two meatballs with ponytails streaming down   
from them. This brings up the incredibly moronic nickname that had just been   
bestowed upon me. People have an aptitude for three things: making themselves   
and each other miserable, deluding themselves, and giving their peers idiotic   
nicknames. Almost every person that I have met has done every one of things listed   
above. People who only do one or two, because doing at least one in inescapable,   
have earned my respect. I did not know what it was about Mamoru, but I was desperately   
hoping that he would be one of those people who earned respect according to my rules.   
  
I abandoned hope of using my locker for the time being, and I   
meandered through the crowded hallway to my next class, Literature Comprehension   
and Grammar. Well, the rest of the morning was unexciting as a whole, so I will fast   
forward several hours, to just before lunch.   
  
I was once again staring despairingly at my locker during the lunch   
period, so the halls were empty. I was interrupted from my negative reverie by   
the sounds of grunts and banging. This was not the sound of someone trying to open   
a locker. It sounded rather like someone was being thrown against lockers, or   
something like that. Damn curiosity to perdition, it took hold of me. Fatuity is one   
of man's greatest faults, and I was by no means immune to it. So I walked, outwardly   
casual, down the hallway, my heart racing, anticipating a violent, unpleasant scene   
before me. Life has never been one to disappoint me on the negative side. That may be why   
my optimism crashed and burned when I was fourteen. After a while, it's just hard to   
continue holding the belief that the world is great, and everything will turn   
out right in the end; good will   
triumph over evil, and all that tripe.   
  
Some upperclassmen were slamming a tiny, meaning my size, girl against   
lockers. Well, I had vowed to screw consequences earlier that day, so maybe that was   
why I brought attention to myself by yelling,"Hey, stop that!" Or perhaps it was   
merely because I was too tired to make intelligent, well-planned decisions. I guess   
my spontaneity was worth it in the end, on all accounts.   
  
The bullies, turned to me, sneered, and said their predictable bully   
spiel. It was entirely unexciting, unoriginal, and played out like a bad teen   
movie. Whatever happened is somewhatfuzzy, probably because I had the stuffing   
beaten out of me, but I do remember exchanging some extremely witty comments,   
punching people, blood, and waking upon the floor with a pale, concerned face peering   
down into mine.  
  
"Are you alright?" she queried in a concerned voice.  
  
"What's your name?"  
  
"Mizuno Ami."  
  
"Please, lean closer, Ami," I remember saying.  
  
She looked at me with a puzzled expression, looked up, seemingly   
considering which course of action to take, and finally leaned closer, right   
down next to my face.  
  
I was feeling a little grumpy at the moment, and I felt that I had a   
right to be. Being beaten up, or beating other people up, has never been   
a particularly joyous pastime. So forgive my lapse in good taste. I yelled   
shrilly into her ear, "I just got into a fight with three, larger   
upperclassmen! I was punched, kicked, and I'm probably bleeding in four   
places! Would you be alright, would you?" I placed extra emphasis on the word   
'would', and clenched the front of Ami's school uniform for extra dramatic flare,   
and from impatience at her badly phrased question.  
  
Ami's eyes grew wide, and her eyes crunched up from cringing at the   
cacophonous sound resonating within her ears. "Sorry," she mumbled. "Thanks   
for taking out those girls for me. You did quite an impressive job disabling   
them. I can assure you, if it bring an consolation, that they are still out,   
and look worse than you do right now." I suspected that looking better   
than the upperclassmen I had encountered would be no large feat, but   
said nothing, allowing Ami to continue. "Please share my lunch with me as thanks."   
  
I was about to decline. I generally made it a rule not to hang out   
with people who are beaten up on a regular basis, but I remembered that I had   
forgotten my lunch at home, so I accepted reluctantly. "Sure, Ami. It would be   
my pleasure. I hope that lunch hour is not almost over."  
  
Ami smiled at me. It almost seemed as though rejection would have   
broken her heart, which I supposed was a feeble as her body seemed to be. It   
would have been cruel, as I reflect on it, to refuse someone who seemed so   
lonely and hopeful.  
  
"I know the perfect place to go to, after we get you some medical   
attention." She grasped my hand and led me along through the hallway, quickly   
stepping out the upperclassmen; they were still out cold. I really wish that   
I could recall the fight, because I still do not see any logical way that I   
could have beaten them, adrenaline or no adrenaline.   
  
"Great," I smiled back. "And while we're eating you can explain to me   
why you're having problems with those upperclassmen."  
  
I looked over at Ami, who was walking next to me, composed, as if   
nothing had just happened. She had blue hair, which I thought was a pretty   
daring color to have dyed one's hair, but seemed natural enough on her. It   
added a bit of punkiness to the, by all appearances, mousy, quiet girl named Ami.   
  
Instead of leading my to the infirmary, Ami led me to her locker,   
which was full of basic first aid things, such as band-aids, alcohol, sanitary   
wipes, etc. I raised an eyebrow. Maybe this bullying situation was more serious   
than I had imagined. Ami seemed to sense my skeptical thoughts, and informed me,   
"It is my dream to become a doctor when I become an adult. I keep these supplies   
around just in case I get to doctor someone, even though that is not very often."   
  
I had noticed until that moment that Ami had some purplish spots on   
her, and a cut on her leg. She cleaned the cut and placed a band-aid on it,   
and then began to care for my battle wounds.   
  
When she was finished, she slammed her locker shut, threw away the   
used medical supplies, and hurried me outside into the school yard. We sat   
under a tree, and Ami explained to me that she had been targeted by bullies   
because of her renowned intelligence, and they were too lazy to do their own   
work. Seems that Ami had gotten tired of the game of cat-and-mouse that day,   
so it was really only one of few confrontations. So, since their seemed to be   
nothing more to discuss about bullying, we turned our conversation to other   
topics while intermittently munching on Ami's lunch, which was scrumptious.   
  
It really is fascinating how interesting the conversations that one   
has with intellectuals. My favorite tidbit from our extensive conversation   
would be the one about the paradox of time. It proved not to be prolific, but   
it was amusing. Sometime within the course of our interaction I became very fond   
of Ami. Sound, I had found my first friend in the big city of Tokyo.   
  
------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Serena looked down at me as if seeing me for the first time. She had   
been, during her trip down memory lane, been staring up at the ceiling, as though it   
somehow helped her memory to flow more clearly. "I've been rambling, haven't I,   
Sienna? You probably did not want all of these details. I'm just to given to   
talking in my old age."  
  
Actually, I was interested, if still having trouble grasping the   
concept of Serena as a teenager. Besides, even if the story had been boring,   
it was still a way of killing time on a slow moving day. "I really am enjoying   
you story, actually. If you want to rest now, I could come back some other time."  
  
I looked expectantly at Serena, waiting for her answer, and she turned   
to me wistfully. Finally, reality seemed to fully come back, and she started.   
"Yes, why don't you come back, tomorrow? I'll make more cookies. Take the cookies on   
the platter I have sitting on the table home to your family for today. I'm sure that   
they'll appreciate them more than me." She held out her arm and flicked her hand in a   
movement which was to encourage me to be on my way.  
  
I nodded to her in acknowledgement, and she closed her eyes, letting   
sleep overtake her.  
  
"Goodnight, Serena," I said, facing the door, and taking the cookies   
with me. I exited, and closed the door behind me.   
  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
  
Email me: icefaerie0719@angelfire.com  
  
Any feedback or constructive criticism is encouraged and greatly   
appreciated. For those of you   
who read the prologue, sorry to keep you waiting so long. I will get   
out other chapters more   
quickly. I promise. 


	3. Stop, Drop and Roll

Chapter Two: Stop, Drop, and Roll  
  
Originally composed on July 23, 2002  
  
  
Quote: "I dislike arguments of any kind. They are always vulgar, and   
often convincing."  
  
-- Oscar Wilde  
  
  
Standard Copyright notices apply.  
  
Author's Notes: Hehe. I love Oscar Wilde's works and quotations.   
They're so amusing. Moving on, I'm on a roll! I'm actually writing   
consecutively two days in a row. It's a miracle. Well, actually,   
I didn't wake up until really late today, like 2:40 PM, so I need to   
figure out something to do, since I've wasted most of the day already.   
Let's see how this chapter turns out, shall we, because as of now,   
I have no idea how it's going to go.  
  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
  
I awoke the next day in a dreamy daze. I had had bizarre dreams in   
which I was interacting with Serena when she was younger, and I was at   
her high school. It was quite frightening, and it played out like a   
movie dream. All that I can say is that my subconscious is seriously messed   
up.  
  
Walking down the stairs in my pajamas, I entered the kitchen. The   
oven clock read 1:06. I made a mental note to be ready to go to Serena's   
house by 3:00 PM. I waited anxiously for the time when I could go over.   
I paced around the house, watched the sports television. Then I turned it   
off and watched the sitcom television. It is simply ridiculous that, with   
thousands of channels per television, there is absolutely nothing to watch.   
I thought it was ridiculous that there were so many channels that special   
televisions had to be bought for each category of television channel.   
What is a person to do with millions of television channels?  
  
Finally, I got dressed and walked over to Serena's square, little   
house, white house. Serena was not one of the things adorning the porch   
that day, not that I had expected her to be, given how I had seen her the   
day before. The door, of course, was not locked, so I walked into the house.   
It was still the cluttered chaos that I had seen the day before. But again,   
I had expected it to be, and at least the mess was not any worse.   
  
I found Serena in the same place that I had left her, but she was   
wearing different clothing, so obviously she had moved some time during my   
absence. She looked up when I entered the room, and smiled weakly. She motioned   
to the kitchen and said, "I made some oatmeal cookies today, Sienna, though I   
did not make as many cookies today. Why don't you try some?"  
  
Not wishing to offend or upset the old lady, I complied. The cookies   
were good, of course, but I was not coming over today to gain another five   
pounds from cookies. I sat myself down adjacent to Serena and prodded her gently   
with, "Serena, you were going to continue your story today?"  
  
She turned her head slowly towards me. "Yes, of course, Sienna. Let   
me just gather my thoughts before I begin. Where did I leave off?"  
  
"Um, it was your first day of school in at Juuban, and you were eating   
lunch with Ami."  
  
Serena began to nod absently, then stopped abruptly and continued her   
story.  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
I walked inside with Ami. It felt kind of nice to have a friend on to   
walk around with. Ami had confessed to me that she found it difficult to make   
friends, and had very few as a result. It turned out that she had gone to   
Germany during summer break to learn about being a doctor; because she had   
encountered many people with similar interests, she had made lots of friends,   
but they all lived in different countries, and corresponded only by email.   
"So, Ami, do you have any other friends here at school?" I queried gently.  
  
Ami looked down at her feet briefly before replying in a tiny voice,   
"No. I'm too shy."  
  
Ami had not exactly struck me as shy. In fact, she had seemed very   
open and friendly to me, but I refrained from comment.   
  
As luck would have it, we had a class after lunch together, Chemistry.   
When it comes to chemistry, some people are good at chemistry, and some are   
bad. Then there are the phenomenally bad people who have melted test tubes   
with incorrect chemical mixes, set a supposedly flame retardant table on fire,   
as well as their partner, or have caused an explosion which broke a window and   
closed the science lab for weeks. Well, I had done all three. Why the chemistry   
teacher at my school in America had continued to let me near lab experiments was   
beyond me. Thankfully, Ami was actually very successful in this subject, so I   
grabbed her as a partner, in the hope that she would help to keep me from injuring   
anyone. It was this hope, and the fact that she was the only person, besides Mamoru,   
who I knew. Even if Mamoru had been in that class, I would not have asked him to be   
my partner, as we were not exactly on friendly terms.  
  
Chemistry passed relatively uneventfully, except for one minor   
incident. We spent the day reviewing basics such as how to light the Bunsen burner.   
The teacher volunteered Minako to demonstrate in front of the class, which turned   
out to be a catastrophically bad idea. Minako had paid absolutely no attention   
during the teacher's explanation, and thus set the homework papers and the teacher on   
fire. Several people in the class, myself included, stood up and chanted, "Stop, drop   
and roll! Stop, drop and roll!" Then the class released a loud cheer and clapped   
gleefully when the teacher dropped to the floor and began to roll around frantically.   
It seemed that sadistic senses of humor ran rampant among my peers.  
  
Then she, the teacher, stood up and grabbed a fire extinguisher; she   
shot the foamy substance onto the desk, soaking and ruining everything on the   
desk. Minako received a detention, and had to stand outside in the hallway   
holding two buckets full of water until class ended. On the bright side, there   
was no homework for that night.   
  
Ami and I went separate ways to our next classes. After a series of   
lackluster classes, there was PE, which I still to this day believe has absolutely   
no educational value. That day's fun activity was volleyball. The boys got to   
play football (soccer). I was placed on the team with Minako. Somehow the sports   
teacher decided that I would make a good setter, which baffles me, because being a   
setter actually requires skill, which I was severely lacking in. The other team   
served the ball. Iyoko, one of my classmates, whom I had encountered in the foreign   
language class, bumped the ball to me, where I was supposed to set it. Well, I did   
some wild set, horribly formed set, which somehow was ok. Minako dashed up, jumped,   
and spiked the ball into the center of the other court. A chorus of mines erupted,   
but no one took the initiative to get the ball, thinking that someone else would.   
The volleyball bounced lamely onto the court.   
  
Eventually, we rotated, and I became right forward. At no time for   
the duration of the game was it ever necessary for me to bump the ball, which I   
found quite remarkable.  
  
Minako confronted me after the class ended and commented, "You look   
stressed out. If you just relax, you would do a lot better with your setting.   
Also, you're trying to hard to hit the ball, not tap it up into the air. Since   
we are doing volleyball for the rest of week, would you like to practice with me   
after school?"  
  
Why in the hell would I want to play more volleyball? I could just   
stumble through the rest of the week, just as I always had. "Why?"  
  
Minako blinked. I suppose she had been expecting a more amicable   
answer. "Why what?"  
  
I tried with some degree of success to keep from rolling my eyes. "Of   
all the people in this school, why ask me to practice volleyball with you?"  
  
Minako seemed to think I was the biggest idiot on earth from the way   
that she was looking at me. "Well, we're both new here, so I thought that   
since we have that much in common, we could do some bonding, or something.   
You know, new people stick together." She seemed uncertain about that last   
part.  
  
The logic of the idea still escaped me, but I decided to humor the   
girl. "Sure, why not? Let's go into the gym."  
  
That was when Minako froze and slapped her forehead. "I have   
detention today. I totally forgot! I have to get going. Why don't we   
practice tomorrow?"  
  
"Sure," I replied noncommittally. Minako probably never heard me,   
considering the fact that she had already dashed off to avoid being late for   
detention, and getting another detention for her tardiness. I strolled leisurely   
back to the locker room, showered, and dressed.   
  
Upon exiting the locker room, I ran directly into Mamoru. He looked   
down at me, since has considerably taller than me. "Are you alright, Odango   
Atama?"  
  
Glaring hatefully at him, I responded, "Yes, thank you. I would   
apologize for running into you, but I find it exceedingly difficult to be sorry   
when the person whom I should be apologizing to just called me a rude name."   
I crossed my arms, and turned away pointedly.  
  
He chuckled. "Sorry, but it's just so tempting. Anyway, you look   
crap. Not get enough sleep?"  
  
"You sweet talker," I drawled. "You really do have a way with words.   
You must be quite popular with a great majority of the female population at this   
educational establishment," I oozed sarcastically. "And I'm still jetlagged, so   
it wouldn't matter if I had gotten ten hours of sleep last night. I'd still look   
like crap," I added offhandedly.  
  
"You know, you might as well take you hair down, since it's falling   
out of its ribbons, anyway."  
  
I knew he was right, but I desperately just wanted to gripe at him.   
"Thanks so much, Mamoru, for that great advice on my hair. Why don't we meet   
again tomorrow so we can discuss the proper application of eye shadow?"   
  
Do you know how infuriating it is to have someone grin at everything   
you say? Because that is what Mamoru did. "Sure, Odango Atama. Though I   
really think it's your foundation that needs work," Mamoru said with his   
aggravating, obnoxious smile.   
  
I let out an exasperated sigh, and strode away, Mamoru's chuckles of   
great mirth following me all the way down the hall. If there was ever a person   
who needed his two front teeth punched out, it was Mamoru. He had won the battle,   
but I vowed that I would be victorious in the war.  
  
Why had Mamoru targeted me, anyway? Was it because of my unwillingness   
to move during first period? It just seemed to me that he enjoyed mocking   
me. I was so busy brooding that did not even notice when Ami slid in next to me.   
We walked out of the school side by side. Ami snapped me out of my reverie when   
she said, "Serena, would you like me to show you around Tokyo? There are some great   
sights for you to see before you go back home."  
  
"Not today, Ami, but thanks for the offer. I really just feel like-"I   
stopped, remembering the arcade that I had passed. Playing a video game would   
be the perfect release for my pent-up anger and energy. "Actually, Ami, I saw   
an arcade when I was coming to school this morning. It's called the Crown Arcade."  
  
Ami nodded. "It's one of the sights of Tokyo in its own right. It's   
a big hang out place for high school students in the area, and the occasional   
reminiscing college freshman, wishing that he or she could go back to the 'simple'   
days of high school.   
  
"I don't frequent the place much myself. As I already told you, I'm   
not much on the whole social scene. Maybe you'll find it more enjoyable."  
Ami said this in a way that indicated that she thought I would probably  
find the Crown Arcade anything but enjoyable.  
  
So with that we exited the school yard and entered the mammoth crowd   
of people milling around on the sidewalks of Tokyo. I followed Ami down the   
streets until we reached the sliding glass doors of the Crown Arcade. Ami grabbed   
me and pulled me into the store before I was swept away by the blob of people   
heading down the street.   
  
"The Crown Arcade is connected to the Crown Diner. You can order   
milkshakes or drinks and food, and then play games. Or you can order food over   
at that counter and sit on one of its spinning stools." Ami paused and looked   
over at the counter, then smiled and waved. "The guy over there behind the counter   
is Motoki. He's a freshman at the University. His father owns the Crown." The   
man that Ami had identified as Motoki waved back.   
  
Ami strode over to the counter with me in tow. Upon reaching the   
counter, I was greeted by Motoki. "Hello there. My name is Motoki. You're   
Ami's friend?"  
  
I nodded. "Yes. I'm an exchange student from the United States. My   
name is Serena."   
  
Motoki stuck out his right hand. "This is what you do in the US,   
right? Not just businessmen. They shake hands in greeting?"  
  
I nodded and shook his hand. Ami, meanwhile, had opened a textbook   
and was busily reading it. I was going to find a way someday, I vowed, to keep   
her from studying when she should have been relaxing. Motoki turned out to be   
a pretty decent fellow, after interacting with him, which is what I did for the   
next few minutes. Then he seemed to remember that he was being paid to actually   
work, so he inquired, "Can I get anything for you, Serena?" It was adorable how   
he struggled to pronounce my name. His face kind of screwed up in concentration.  
  
It was then that it occurred to me I had no money with me. I shifted   
uncomfortably in my seat. "Do you have tabs here? Can I start a tab,   
Motoki?"  
  
He grinned at me. He had that look in his eyes, the same look that   
Shingo had had that morning when I had almost gone flying into the front door of the   
house. "You're a wonder Serena. You're the first person that I've met who asked   
for a tab, so we never really thought that it would be worth it to create a tab system.   
But, since you look trustworthy, I guess I could make up a tab for you."  
  
  
I didn't really see how this made me a wonder, but I shrugged and kept   
silent.  
  
Motoki turned around and began shuffling through the papers on the   
shelf opposite the counter. He finally released a grunt of triumph, and   
placed a small, index card sized box on the table. He flipped the top open,   
and pulled out a card. Motoki then pulled the pen hanging from his apron off,   
and took a stance that prepared him for taking down my order.   
  
"I thought you said that you didn't have a tab system going."  
  
"Well, we don't now, but when the Crown opened we had it as a just in   
case. It never really took off."  
  
"But how could it when you never told anyone that they could have a   
tab?"  
  
Ami looked up from her seeming oblivion to her surroundings and   
interrupted, "We can get tabs? Since when have we been able to do that?   
Well, I might as well take advantage of it. Start a new tab for me. "I'll   
have vanilla milkshake, Motoki."  
  
Motoki scribbled down on the sheet, and then picked up another sheet   
from the box. He glanced up at me. "And for you, little lady?"  
  
"Do you have chocolate-strawberry-banana milkshakes?"  
  
Motoki face crinkled into a cheerful, amused smile. "Actually, no,   
but I think that I could whip up something like that without too much trouble."   
He busily scribbled on the tab sheet, and then placed it back into the box next   
to Ami's."  
  
As Motoki set to preparing our milkshakes, I turned to Ami, who was   
again lost in the book. "So, Ami, what are you studying?"  
  
Ami was apparently too engrossed in her very mind-numbing textbook,   
and did not hear me. I was about to ask again when Motoki came back with our   
drinks. I was contentedly sipping my drink when I heard Motoki call out, "Hey,   
Mamoru. Come over here!"  
  
Damn Murphy and his law. The one person I would like least to see in   
the world had just walked into the door, and seemed to be friends with the   
friendly Motoki, which baffled me utterly. The two were on opposite ends of the   
spectrum. Mamoru was like a shadow, following me around, except that Mamoru didn't   
disappear at high noon. Now, if Mamoru had been a nice, gorgeous guy, instead of an   
insulting, gorgeous guy, maybe it would not have been so bad, but that was just   
metaphysical speculation.   
  
I felt like smashing my milkshake on the ground in frustration. That   
day had just been one thing after another. Making up late, lacerating my foot with   
a piece of honed plastic, making an enemy out of several of my peers, my   
cockroach-infested locker (sort of), PE, running into Mamoru, and now having him   
appear, spoiling the momentary contentment that I had been feeling. I could hear   
his footsteps behind me. Each clomp of his shoes echoed through my head in slow   
motion.  
  
Finally, after an eternity, he was right behind me. I could feel his   
presence looming over me. "Hello, Motoki. What's going on?"  
  
Motoki leaned on the counter, next to where my milkshake was. "Oh,   
not much. I was talking to Ami's friend, Serena."  
  
I could tell that Mamoru was grinning. "Oh, you met Odango Atama   
here? I can't imagine that you had a very interesting conversation."  
  
Whirling around to face him, I was not prepared to have his eyes   
boring down into mine. He had the most gorgeous eyes I had ever seen. Heck,   
I have not seen eyes like that since. Despite that, I frowned and looked up at   
Mamoru. "You," I sneered calmly, before spinning around to face Motoki.  
  
"Motoki, are you friends with this baka?" I asked contemptuously.  
  
Motoki glanced at me, a confused expression on his face. "Mamoru's   
one of my oldest friends. He is stupid sometimes, but he's not a complete   
idiot."   
  
I grinned at Motoki. "I'm afraid that you'll never convince me of   
that."  
  
Motoki turned to Mamoru and drawled, "You know, Mamoru, you'll never   
get a date with a pretty girl if you insist on insulting them."  
  
I took this opportunity to let my hair out of its constraints. I   
shook my head to get my hair out of my eyes. I briefly considered a haircut.   
Caring for hair down to your knees is high maintenance work. Mamoru sat down   
next to me and rolled his eyes. "I'll remember that bit of wonderful advice,   
Motoki. You think Serena's pretty, though?"  
  
I personally thought that this comment was a little harsh. When   
people say things like that, even if they don't really mean it, it hurts.   
"Anyway, Motoki, if Mamoru were ever to ask me out, I would definitely say no,   
whether or not he had insulted me previously. I have standards, after all."  
  
Mamoru and I turned to each other and commenced glaring at each other.   
"Saucy wench." He smirked.  
  
"Cocky bastard." I thought a saccharine smile would be appropriate at   
that moment, so I gave Mamoru one. He might not have meant his comment, but   
I did. He was a cocky bastard, and arrogant, too.   
  
"Fashion misfit."  
  
"Pompous oaf."  
  
"Infuriating little girl."  
  
"Egotistical jerk." Before Mamoru could respond, I turned away from   
him.  
  
I had not noticed, but Motoki had been looking at us with a happy-dumb   
look on his face. I turned back to slurping my milkshake. Then, Motoki   
suddenly came out of his stupor. "You're done flirting already?"  
  
I started choking on my milkshake when I heard that. I grabbed a   
napkin out of a holder on the counter, and began to hack uncontrollably into it.   
Mamoru fell off his stool.   
  
"What are you talking about, Motoki? What Mamoru and I engage in is   
not called flirting; it's called bickering."  
  
"Sure; whatever, Serena," Motoki replied in a tone that implied that   
he believed that my proclamation had no ounce of truth in it. Mamoru righted   
himself and sat down again.   
  
"I'm not staying here, Motoki, if all you're going to do is make false   
assumptions. I'm out of here." Mamoru grimaced and stood up, making a motion   
that indicated that he was about to exit the Crown.  
  
"Fine. It'll free up a space at the counter for actual customers!"   
Motoki shouted after him. He turned to me and said, "Well, at least I've got   
you to talk to still, right?"  
  
"Actually, Motoki, I think that I'll depart, too. I have to get home   
to start my homework. Maybe I'll come back tomorrow and play some games. I'll   
see you tomorrow." With that, I tapped Ami on the shoulder, said "Goodbye,"   
though I am sure that she did not hear me, and walked out of the Crown. I saw   
Mamoru's form retreating in the opposite direction.   
  
When I was almost home, I heard a female voice call, "You have really   
pretty hair." My primary thought was that some psycho molester was hiding in   
the alley waiting to jump me. The voice had sounded female to me, but females   
could attack people, too. I turned apprehensively toward the source of the voice   
and dropped my bag when I saw the face of the person who had called out to me.  
  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
  
Lalalala. That's the end of the chapter. I'll try to get chapter   
three out soon.  
  
Feedback/constructive criticism are appreciated.   
  
Email me at icefaerie0719@earthlink.net 


	4. Tectonic Shifting

Chapter Three: Tectonic Shifting  
  
Originally composed on August 15, 2002  
  
Quote: "The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen   
or even touched. They must be felt with the heart."  
  
--Helen Adams Keller  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
I released a small 'meep'. Makoto stared into my eyes from the alley.   
She grinned, finally. "Sorry about that. It just kind of slipped out."  
  
I nodded, my eyes opened wide. I was about to panic then. Makoto was   
quite an imposing figure, being athletic and several inches taller than me. I   
was not quite sure what to expect. This was definitely up there on my incredibly   
odd conversations list. "Yah," I said weakly.   
  
Obviously not noticing my discomfort with the situation, she   
continued, "I just wanted to say-"  
  
"Wait!" I said in a more ancy voice than I had intended. I took a   
couple of deep breaths, and collected my composure. I still was not sure   
that Makoto had not called out to me just to be me up in an alley. "Would   
you mind coming out of that alley before we continue this exchange?" I asked   
shrilly. Damnit, damnit, damnit! I cursed myself mentally. Not for the first   
time in my life I wished that I could have a facade of calm in what I considered   
precarious positions. Helping Ami earlier that day did not qualify, as I   
accounted that to a momentary lapse in sanity.  
  
If Makoto had not sensed my nervousness, she did then. "Sure." She   
slid smoothly out of the alley and onto the street. "Sorry about lurking in   
the shadows. I was afraid that you would run away or something if I just called   
out to you on the street," she said sheepishly. I resisted the incredibly strong   
urge to roll my eyes. Lurking in an alley was definitely a better idea, I thought   
sarcastically to myself.   
  
"Anyway," she said, studying my face closely, "I wanted to apologize   
for my behavior earlier today." The way she said it implied that I was more at   
fault, but I ignored the tone. "I was thinking that we could start over. Maybe   
we could be friends. I really don't need anybody else at school to be afraid of   
me," she finished matter of factly.  
  
"Who ever said that I was afraid of you?" I asked blandly.  
  
She raised her eyebrows, glanced down at my bag, which still sat on   
the ground, and finally turned her gaze back to me, still with the same   
expression. I knew that she had not forgotten my little 'meep,' or my shrill   
tone that had implied uneasiness. We stared into each other faces for a while,   
and finally erupted into gales of laughter. Life's like that sometimes. You just   
have to laugh. It occurred to me later that throughout the day people had decided   
that we should be friends. I found it quite peculiar. But then, I had always been   
one of those people who had random people strike up a conversation with them. After   
they have finished telling him or her all of their problems, they promptly decide that   
the person that they have trapped would make a good friend. So people in Tokyo just   
skipped the whole burdening me with their problems. They just went straight into the   
"Let's be friends." Or, in Mamoru's case, "Let's be antagonistic towards each other."   
I hesitate to use the word enemies. That word implies hate, rather than the immense   
dislike that we shared for each other.   
  
Once our shared laughter receded, Makoto said, "I was thinking that I   
might go to the Cherry Hill Temple. It's a Shinto temple. They sell good luck   
charms and stuff like that. You up for it?"  
  
I nodded, stooped over to collect my bag, stood up, and followed   
Makoto, who was already weaving through the throngs of people, assuming that I   
could keep up with her. I hurried my pace to catch up to her, and we walked   
together briskly. It felt the need to start up a conversation, so I said, "So,   
were you born in Tokyo?"  
  
She glanced down at me briefly. "Yes, I'm from Tokyo." She did not   
elaborate. Perhaps there was nothing more to say on the subject. I mean, I   
asked if she was born in Tokyo, and she said yes. Not that I had really been   
expecting an in-depth family history along with her origins, but I had still   
hoped for it.   
  
We walked in awkward silence for a while. Makoto finally exclaimed,   
"There it is, the path that leads up to the temple."   
  
We mounted the stairs into the park surrounding the temple. After   
what seemed like endless wandering, we emerged into a picturesque scene. The   
temple sat in the middle of a garden with blooming hibiscus, narcissus, azalea   
bushes, tiger lilies, African lilies, and a small patch of casablancas. About   
thirty feet from the temple in all directions there were cherry trees, and three   
weeping willows stood a little closer in, forming a triangle around the temple.   
Under each weeping willow was a stone bench. I stood there next to Makoto, mesmerized   
for several minutes. It was hard to believe that this scene from out of a movie was   
in the middle of a city. "What an astounding garden. African lilies are especially hard   
to grow. I don't know how they managed to keep them alive in this atmosphere."   
  
I nodded. I feared that if I were to express my opinion, I would show   
Makoto my ignorance of horticulture. I could have said something like, "Wow,   
this is really beautiful," but I felt that if I was going to comment, it should   
be something more expressive, and less overused. Sometime during the period when   
we had been standing around, gaping like goldfish, a young woman wearing the robes   
of a priestess have emerged, and was sweeping the small set of stairs leading up   
to the temple.  
  
We approached the priestess, who was turned away from us. When we   
were almost on top of her, I called softly, "Hello?"  
  
The woman gave a start, and spun around. The broom swung up and flew   
from out of her hands. It caught me square in the face. Right before it hit   
me, I yelled "Aaaaaaaaaa," which was promptly cut off by the broom muffling me.   
I toppled over, waving my arms wildly, and landed on the stone in front of the   
steps with a sickening thud. When everything came back into focus, I lay flat   
on my back, staring up at the picturesque blue sky. I saw a puffy cumulus cloud  
passing by lazily. If I recall correctly, it vaguely resembled a hamster. I had   
started a stream of thoughts about interestingly shaped clouds that I had seen in   
my life. As I was recalling seeing one that looked like hand, a face suddenly loomed   
over me. The entire episode of course took much less time than it took to describe.  
  
I stared up blankly into her striking mauve eyes. I could feel her   
black, silky hair brushing against my face and arm. "Are you alright?" a sultry   
voice inquired.  
  
I held out my arm. The woman stood up, walked around me, grasped my   
arm so that we were grabbing each other's wrists, and pulled me up effortlessly.   
I took my time brushing my skirt off. Finally, with agonizing slowness, I looked   
up at her. I opened my mouth, and before I could stop myself, I said, "You threw   
a broom at my head!"  
  
She rolled her eyes. "I guess you are ok, then. Anyway, it was your   
own fault. You should not sneak up on people like that," she said in a patronizing   
tone.  
  
Obviously I was not expressing what I was trying to say properly. I   
tried again. "You," I paused and pointed at her with both fingers. She nodded   
for me to continue. "Threw. A. Broom. At." I paused and pointed to myself,   
"My. Head!"  
  
The priestess sighed. "Well, I apologize. But it was still your   
fault. My name is Rei, by the way. I am the priestess at this temple."   
She bowed.  
  
"I'm Serena. I'm in Tokyo through an exchange student program."  
  
Rei nodded in a disinterested, cocktail party manner. "That is   
fascinating. Is there anything that I can help you with?"  
  
Makoto emerged from somewhere in the background at this point. "I'd   
like a good luck charm." The two looked over at me, waiting for my response.  
  
I noticed that the sun was setting, and decided that I should probably   
get home. "I should head home, actually. Maybe I'll come back tomorrow. I'll   
catch you at school tomorrow, Makoto." I turned to Rei. "It was nice to meet   
you."  
  
Rei nodded her acknowledgement, and I waved goodbye to Makoto. She   
looked after me a little forlornly, but waved. I guess that getting the   
charms was supposed to have been a bonding experience for us.   
  
I made my way out of the temple, noting how everything had taken an   
orange tinge from the rays of the setting sun. It had a very pacifying effect   
on my personage. I plodded home slowly. It had been quite a day. Sadly, it was   
not over yet. As I was nearing the house, a man popped seemingly out of nowhere   
and blocked my path. He leered at me in a most unbecoming fashion. "Hello, darlin',"   
he rasped out. I wanted to sit down on the sidewalk and cry right then. I had not   
cried in years, but the built up trauma of the day was almost proving too much. It had   
just been one thing after another all day.  
  
As the man neared me, I prepared to try to make a quick escape. I   
dashed out into the street. I was not quick enough. I felt an iron grip on my   
arm. I was pulled back onto the sidewalk. "Oh, come on, sweetie. Be a good sport."   
He leaned over me. I waited until he was positioned in front of me, and close. I   
brought my kneeup and rammed him in the groin, hard.   
  
It had the desired effect. He released a guttural howl of pain, and   
relinquished my arm, using it instead to grip his injured package. He fell over   
and curled into a fetal position. I jumped over his huddling form and dashed   
back to my host family's house. Upon reaching it, I yanked the door open, kicked   
off my shoes, and sat down on the stairs leading into the main part of the house.   
I put my head on my knees, curled my arms around my legs, and sat. I am not sure how   
long I sat there, but I was brought out of my daze by the voice of Ikuko. "Hello, Serena.   
How was your first official day here in Tokyo?"   
  
I rose, and turned to face Ikuko. I looked at her with half-lidded   
eyes, and replied, "It was the kind of day that you never want to have again."  
  
Ikuko looked sympathetically at me. "I'm sorry, dear." And she   
really was sorry, as though it were somehow her fault. "Well, things can only   
improve, right? I'm sure that tomorrow will be better." I somehow doubted it, but nothing   
productive would have come from saying so, so I remained silent.  
  
Ikuko led me into the kitchen. Shingo and Kenji entered shortly. We   
sat at the table and ate dinner. There was of course some conversation, but I   
tuned it out and dined in silence. I helped Ikuko clean up, and then grabbed my   
bag from the foyer. I walked up the stairs to my room. That was when I realized   
that I still had hours of homework to do. I dropped my bag on the floor and flopped   
face down onto the bed. The dam broke then. I began to sob uncontrollably into the   
comforter.  
  
I thought then that the entire idea of coming to Japan had been   
foolish. I was not strong enough for the drastic changes in culture. Not only that,   
but I was thousands of miles from home. Not that my parents and I had a wonderful   
relationship, or that I missed them all that much. I just missed the familiarity of   
someplace that I had been in for years. I also desperately desired to have a conversation   
in English with someone. The entire situation just made me tired; I was stuck in Japan for   
several more months.  
  
People throughout history, and in the present have and do deal with   
much worse dilemmas than a very bad day, but I felt that I was justified in a   
certain amount of self-pity. So I just lay there, soaking the down comforter with   
my tears.   
  
I felt his presence before I heard him. "Oh, poor baby. Did the   
little baby have a bad day? Boohoo," Shingo said in a whiny, mocking voice. He   
continued briskly and in a more serious tone, "Jeez, Serena. Stop feeling sorry for   
yourself. Lying there on the bed isn't going to make your problems go away. Besides, whatever   
mountains have been formed the by shifting of your life will be eroded by morning. You'll   
see." I looked up from the bed to see Shingo leaning against the doorway. "That's right,   
Serena. Now get off your lazy ass. You have homework to do." I stared at him. People   
say the strangest, more uncharacteristic things sometimes. I grinned.  
  
He took on a confused expression. "You heard me. When I come back in   
five minutes, you had better be working." That was the Shingo I was familiar with. It was cute,  
I thought. In his own, awkward way, he was trying to cheer me up.  
  
I turned and sat up. "I did hear you. I just can't believe that you   
just compared my problems to mountains formed by the shifting of tectonic plates."   
I giggled.  
  
Shingo scowled at me. "We're learning about earth science in school."  
  
"Nonsense, Shingo. You're waxing poetic. That's so cute!" I knew   
that this comment would make Shingo blush, and it brought me a certain amount of   
satisfaction. He turned beet red and fled.   
  
Surprisingly enough, the little exchange had left me feeling a lot   
better. And it was over like that. All the stress and depression that I had felt   
just moments had just flown out of the window. I hopped off of the bed and sat down   
at my desk. I began working on my Chemistry homework.   
  
Time seemed to pass quickly, then. At some interval Ikuko came up   
with a snack; she said it was for energy. I knew that she was worried about me, and   
was using food as an excuse. It felt nice, to have people concerned about me. Or   
rather, it felt nice to see that they had any interest in my welfare. It had been an   
unfamiliar sensation for years, now, the feeling of security and caring.   
  
You see, my parents had been living in a horrific marriage for years.   
It was a mockery of love. They lived together, but separate; they each have   
different friends, and countless affairs. Of course, they did their best to hide   
it from me. We had the outward face of the perfect family. My friends at school all   
said that they wished that their family was like mine. The grass is always greener, I   
suppose. When I was fourteen, naive, innocent, cheerful, endlessly optimistic, and somewhat   
of a wimp, I came home one afternoon, earlier than I usually did, and heard a loud crash. I   
watched through the French doors that led into the living room as they had their altercation.   
The crash that I had heard had been the sound of the Ming vase that my mother had chucked at   
my father's head hitting the wall.   
  
I do not remember what they said to each other. Their voices were so   
loud that their words were drowned out by the sheer volume. I understood the   
general gist of it. They had too much pent up energy from doing something that they did   
not want to do together. At that time I had not known what. After standing there,   
viewing the scene in horror, I finally slid open the doors, unable to take it any more.   
Arguments have always upset me greatly. "Stop it," I shrieked. My parents turned to face   
me. My mother opened her mouth to speak. Her eyes beseeched me to understand.   
"Serena, sweet-"  
  
My father cut her off with a loud, "Get out, Serena. This is an adult   
conversation. Go do your homework."  
  
It was quite a shock to me. My father had never raised his voice at   
me. I turned to my mother, and saw the pained expression on her face. Suddenly all   
of the clues to what had been going on for years came into place. I suddenly   
understood why I had done so many activities with one parent, but not the other. I had   
just thought that it was supposed to be bonding one-on-one, but now it was all painfully   
obvious. It was that way because they hated each other. I could see it in their eyes. All   
this time I had been blinding myself to the truth. They were making themselves miserable   
because of me.   
  
I just stood there in the doorway, and cried. Not the wracking sobs   
that shake the entire body, but the silent, melancholic kind of crying in which all   
one does is let tears fall down one's face wordlessly, as if every other part of the body   
were immobile. I do not think that even if I had wanted to move that I could have. "Crying   
again? You're always crying! Grow up. Stop being such a baby. Be mature, and   
leave," my father raved, practically screaming.   
  
"Don't yell at her," my mother yelled.   
  
She successfully brought my father's attention back onto herself.   
"Don't tell me what to do, bitch. She's my child, I'll yell at her if I want to,"   
he snarled.  
  
"I gave birth to her, you bastard," my mother snarled back.   
  
"If you were so unhappy together, why didn't you just divorce? It   
would have been better that way," I said softly.   
  
"We stayed together for you. Your mother," he spat out the word,   
"thought that it would be too damaging to have divorced parents."  
  
"Oh yes, and parents who quietly hate each other with a fiery passion   
unrivaled by anything on earth is far superior to divorced parents." That was the   
first time in my life that I ever remembered being sarcastic. I had never been a   
moody, sarcastic teenager. It's hard to be optimistic, though, when your father just   
practically accused you for being the source of his despondency. We were all too agitated   
to be shocked by my uncharacteristic manner.  
  
"Serena, I don't want you to think that this is your fault," my mother   
said seriously.  
  
My father had yet to finish. "It is her fault."  
  
That was it. It was either tear my hair out, or get angry. I chose   
fury. "Don't blame me for the bad choices you've made in your life," I shrieked.   
"I think that you owe it to me to get counseling, or get divorced. You're both acting   
like fools. I suggest, though that you get the divorce papers signed as soon as possible,   
since it's doubtful that counseling could ever mend the years of distrust and lies," I said   
in a much calmer tone.  
  
I pivoted, and began to walk out of the room. "Serena, please stop.   
I'm sorry," my mother called feebly. I turned to face her. She ran over to me and   
hugged me tightly, sobbing painfully into my hair. "So am I, mama. So am I," I whispered   
into her business suit. I really was sorry that my mother had suffered so much because   
of a mistake caused by a misdirected sense of sentimentality about me. After a moment's   
hesitation, I wrapped my arms around her, and soaked her blouse with my salty tears.   
  
The entire discussion had taken less than ten minutes. It was brief   
and bitter.   
  
I could hear my father release a disgusted sigh. We barely noticed as   
he walked past us, and slammed the door as he exited. We pulled apart after a   
good cry. She went to the bedroom and changed. When she came back, her face was cleared   
of runny make-up. She had such a beautiful face. I do not understand to this day   
why she insisted on cluttering it up with cosmetics. We ordered pizza, and sat on the   
couch waiting for it to arrive. I looked into her pale, watery blue eyes. Mislead people   
say that eyes are the windows to the soul. Really, they are the windows to the heart. It is   
just that the heart and the soul are so closely intertwined that it is often easy to   
mistake one for the other. Well, I looked into her eyes to see what was behind the windows,   
but all I could see was shattered glass. I could not help but pity her. She was not the type   
of strong willed person who gets back up on her feet. She was utterly crushed. She   
thought that she had destroyed my innocence. Maybe she was right.  
  
She smiled weakly at me, and said, "Well, we're all going to need a   
good shrink after this one."   
  
I nodded. She was right about that. "Yeah. I guess it's going to   
take some time to get over the fact that my entire life has been one big lie." The   
pizza finally arrived, and we had a good long discussion after that.   
  
The divorce was long and mess. That seems to be the nature of them.   
It was bitter and painful to everyone, but my heart felt a thousand times   
lighter when it was all over.  
  
After that it had been a downward spiral. My father became   
exceedingly depressed after the divorce, which had taken place shortly after that   
afternoon. He wandered through life like a ghost. Though he had cheated on my mother   
countless times, he still had like the feeling of being able to come home to   
someone, I believe.   
  
I spent months going to the psychiatrist every week. We had deep   
conversations that practically bored me to death. I was tired, and my entire world   
had just shifted off kilter, and I needed someone to make me laugh, not to discuss platonic   
love, non-platonic love, and hate. Telling the psychiatrist how I felt did not help me at   
all. I still felt the same as I had before my illusion was shattered, just a little jaded.   
I had never truly blamed myself for the divorce, or thought that my parents did not love   
me. I was perfectly content with the new situation. It was hard to be weepy and   
sad when I knew that I had helped to release my parents from bondage, or at least my   
mother. I pushed away the wish to have my illusionary family back whenever I saw my   
mother's face, so much younger and brighter in appearance and personality. It was for   
the best. Finally, the psychiatrist said that she had done all that she could, and I was   
released from my weekly appointments.   
  
After my mother recovered from the stress of the divorce, she was had   
trouble with her new liberation. Now that she was free, she did not know what   
to do. On the other hand, she looked healthier and a good deal happier than I had   
ever seen her. She laughed more, joked more, and I found her to be a much more   
enjoyable person. She at last realized that she was in a meliorated state, and she   
acclimated herself. She looked at me one day, after days of brooding, and said, "Serena,   
today I'm going to do something that will change my life. I've been listening to my mind   
all of my life, and it has only made me, as well as others, unhappy. Today, for the first time,   
I'm going to do what my heart tells me, just like my psychiatrist told me to. I'll see you this   
evening." She finally decided to follow her dream, quit her job at her law firm, and went back   
to school to become a veterinarian. She was too caught up in her new found happiness to have too   
much time for me. She was unconsciously neglectful. I understood in a way. This was her time to   
shine, to glow. I took care of myself, matured, and we ended up living together more like   
roommates than mother and daughter. That was why the sense of familial concern was so   
foreign to me. When I saw the Tsukinos, I saw the family that I had always thought that I had, and   
wanted then.   
  
I finally finished my homework at around eleven o'clock. I stretched   
languidly in my chair. I finally stood up and made my way to the closet. After   
changing, I jumped into the bed, and fell into blissful slumber.   
  
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
"Would you like some tea, Sienna?"   
  
"Yes, thank you, Serena," I replied, smiling politely.  
  
She struggled into a standing position, waving my hand away when I   
offered to help her. I sat in silence while she made the tea. She brought me   
back a steaming mug, and after bestowing it to me, sat down and began to sip her   
own tea. "Tea is very soothing for me. It warms up my bones, and makes my pain go   
away for a while. So, why don't I rest my voice for a few minutes. What is happening in   
your life right now? I eagerly anticipate your response."   
  
So I told her what was happening in my life, which was nothing much,   
and we conversed for a short while.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
I know, I know, what a cliff hanger. Whatevs.  
  
Please send me email or write a critique.  
  
Email me at icefaerie0719@earthlink.net 


	5. Changes

Originally Composed on August 24, 2002  
  
Chapter Four: Changes  
  
Quote: "Everybody wants to do something to help, but nobody wants to be   
the first."   
  
-- Pearl Bailey  
  
  
Author's Notes: I just got back home from my road trip through   
California. We started in Orange County, went to a Bat Mitzvah, stayed   
in L.A. for a night, and then went to Hearst Castle, stayed at a five   
star resort in Carmel, and drove up to San Francisco. My favorite   
place was definitely San Francisco. We stayed at a hotel a block from   
Union Square. Two words. Shopping Mecca. Anyway, whatever happened   
to the feigned California friendliness that it was so renowned for?   
Everyone was just kind of indifferent or hostile. It's worse than in   
New York. There everyone's indifferent, or they tell you if they don't   
like you to your face. In Cali., people just talk about you when they   
think that you can't hear them. Geez. My love affair with California   
is officially ended. Oh well.  
  
Well, that was fun to write about. Not that anyone really cares, but   
still. Sorry if I offended anyone who lives in California. My   
vacation is my excuse for not writing more stuff.   
  
I've noticed that no one has been writing critiques on Moon   
Romance…write critiques! I need feedback and critiquing to improve my   
writing. I'm done now. Now onto the story!  
  
  
All copyright laws apply.  
  
  
No wait, I was wrong. And NOW onto the story.  
  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
  
"So, Serena, what happened the next morning?"  
  
She looked up at me with half-lidded eyes. "Well…"  
  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
I was awakened by Ikuko. She had probably seen the shards of my   
old alarm clock, and was going to wake me up until I got a new once,   
something I had neglected to do because of yesterday's events. I   
figured that I would get one tomorrow, since I had the feeling in my   
gut that today would be just as hectic.   
  
I felt surprisingly refreshed and actually sprang from bed   
instead of thinking every five minutes that I should work up the energy   
to rise, and then be late because I had done it one too many times. I   
dressed quickly, tossing my pajamas on the floor. I felt like   
whistling a merry tune, but sudden recollections of the movie "Mary   
Poppins" came to mind, and I refrained from doing so. Images of   
flying, singing nannies and chimney sweeps can sober anyone up.   
  
I danced down the stairs and made it into the kitchen without   
injuring myself. I sat with my host family, Kenji reading the paper,   
and we had a real family-style breakfast. Ikuko sent Shingo and I off   
with our lunches, and we walked together in silence until we parted   
ways. I winked at Shingo, and he blushed bright red as he walked off.   
Life's all about small joys.   
  
I made my way to school, and managed not to trip over anything.   
That day was looking better and better by the second. While I was   
reflecting on how well the morning had gone so far, I ran into   
something hard and fell over backwards. I looked up and stared into   
the face of a large, yellow hand, or rather, it was a guy dressed up   
like a hand. He was swaying around, trying to regain his balance from   
being run into. And when I say that it had a face, I mean that there   
were some slits that kind of resembled eyes and a mouth cut out of the   
fingers, which were all lined up and pointing skyward. Instead of a   
wrist attached to the end of the hand, there was a pair of legs in   
white tights. The hand was busily dancing around in front of a store   
which sold computer parts. Now, it may just be me, but I do not see   
the connection between giant dancing hands and video cards, extra ram,   
etc.   
  
I was about to apologize to the hand, who was busily sashaying   
down the sidewalk, but when I opened my mouth, the hand kicked me. I   
stood up indignantly and walked over to the hand, who was going on as   
though nothing as happened. When I neared the hand, though, he danced   
around, and then kicked me in the butt, hard. I was more than slightly   
peeved that the hand had ruined my good day. So I jumped onto the   
hand, carrying it onto the ground with the force of my tackle. I then   
began to bash the hand, where I assumed the man inside's head was,   
repeatedly on the sidewalk.   
  
I was brought out of my wild rage against the hand when I heard a   
voice behind me. "Such violence, Odango. What do they teach you in   
those American schools?"  
  
I got up off of the hand, and turned around to face the person I   
had been hoping to avoid. He grinned at me, leaning his weight on his   
left hip, and his bag swung over his shoulder casually with his right   
hand. I narrowed my eyes. "You want to see?" I asked testily.   
  
Mamoru just grinned that sexy, and incredibly vexing grin of his.   
"Maybe some other time, Odango Atama. Right now I think I'll help your   
victim up."  
  
He walked over to the hand and helped the hand up while I watched   
in disgust. Mamoru turned to me. "You really shouldn't go randomly   
attacking-" He was cut off when the resilient hand gave him a swift   
kick in the ass, and then danced away gleefully. The entire affair had   
gathered quite a crowd, which stood there in morbid curiosity. Mamoru   
spun around in surprise as I laughed my head off, and he began cursing   
the hand loudly while chasing it down the street.   
  
When I finally stopped laughing, I was wheezing. "Such language,   
Mamoru. You kiss your mother with that mouth?"  
  
That sobered him up. He stopped chasing the hand, seeming to   
realize that he had let his usually cool demeanor slip, and walked back   
to where I stood. He glared at me, and then brushed past me while I   
grinned at his back. The crowd dispersed, letting out not quite   
grumbled "Kids these days".  
  
I ran and caught up with Mamoru to tease him. He turned to me   
and said, "You'll be late for class if you don't hurry, Odango Atama."  
  
"Don't call me that, baka," I said heatedly. "Anyway, what about   
you? If you keep up at this pace, you'll be late, too," I smirked.  
  
Mamoru suddenly took off down the street, running, with long,   
powerful strides. I stood there in shock for a moment before hastening   
after him. We ran, neck in neck down the street, dodging people going   
the other way. We broke out of the crowd and dashed through the   
deserted schoolyard. Mamoru gained back his lead from before, and   
threw open the class room door. As I reached his tall form, he said to   
me, "You lose. I win," out of breath.   
  
"Wrong, Mr. Chiba. You both lose." Our heads snapped up at the   
sound of Haruna-sensei's annoyed voice. "For being tardy, you will   
both stand outside in the hallway and hold two buckets of water until   
class ends." I looked up at the clock. We were five minutes late.   
  
A little later, we both stood in the hallway, holding heavy   
buckets of water. I could practically feel my arms sagging and   
elongating from the weight. "It's your fault that I was late, Odango   
Atama."  
  
"What?!" I turned to him in surprise, and accidentally sloshed   
the bucket of water in my right hand all over his shoes and ankles.  
  
"You did that on purpose, you bitch," he growled at me. He set   
down one of his buckets of water, and before I could escape, he poured   
the contents of the second bucket over my head. I stood there in   
shock, water dripping from my eyelashes and my hair, running down my   
neck and my spine, sending shivers through my body. My entire uniform   
was soaked with the icy water.  
  
I was in a pure rage. "Don't flatter yourself, Mamoru. It was   
an accident." With that, I heaved the second of bucket of water all   
over Mamoru's front. I smiled with satisfaction. "That, on the other   
hand, was intentional."  
  
I took off down the hall when I saw what Mamoru planned to do   
next. I could hear him pursuing me. He caught me by the waist and   
dumped the second bucket of water down my back, chilling me to the   
bones. I let out a loud shriek.   
  
I looked down the hallway, sopping wet, and saw that there was   
water all the way down the hall. To my horror, the principal was fast   
approaching from the other end of the hall. I could see what was going   
to happen, and I knew I had once chance to stop the looming disaster   
ahead. "No!" I yelled. "Stop walking!" The principal looked up at me   
just in time to slip on the water. His momentum carried him all the   
way down the hallway on his back, sliding around in different   
directions until he finally hit the classroom door at the end of the   
hall with a painful sounding thump.   
  
Every classroom on the floor had heard my shriek and the   
principal's loud cry of horror as he had slid across the floor. I   
found out later that he had thrown out his back.Teachers and students   
alike were leaning out of the doorways. Our peers were grinning. They   
knew we were busted. I saw Haruna-sensei's enraged face as she leaned   
from out of the classroom.  
  
I turned to Mamoru. "We are so screwed," I said blandly. I was   
a little too numb to work up any real emotion into my voice.  
  
He looked down at me. "Royally," he replied in a matter of fact   
tone.   
  
We both cringed when we heard the principal's loud voice   
proclaim, "Detention!"  
  
We both spent the next class period mopping up the floor, but not   
without an earful from Haruna-sensei and the principal both. I   
remember it went something like this:  
  
Mamoru and I sat next to each other in the principal's office,   
silent. There was really nothing to say. "What you did was   
irresponsible and shows a complete lack of discipline. Your actions   
today show that you both obviously have a blatant disrespect for   
authority. You will be taking detentions for the next month so that   
you can think on your actions.  
  
"I expected so much more from both of you," he sighed. "Serena,   
you are an exchange student here, and on only your second day of school   
you are already in trouble. If something like this ever happens again,   
we may have to consider revoking your exchange here in Japan. Your   
stay here has been jeopardized by your actions." I could not believe   
what I had just heard. The threat was quite obvious. I was treading   
on thin ice. I would have to be especially careful from now on,   
because there was way that I was going back home until I had originally   
planned to. To be sent home after all of the work I had done learning   
Japanese and studying the culture so that I would be eligible for the   
program was unthinkable. I stared blankly at the whitewashed wall in   
front of me as the principal continued. "And you, Mamoru," he sounded   
truly pained when he said it. "You have always been a model student.   
I am frankly quite surprised at your behavior. You should be setting a   
good example for others, not engaging in inappropriate actions that   
require disciplinary action.   
  
"You are both dismissed." Mamoru looked almost as crestfallen as  
I did when he rose from his chair. We exited and walked next to each   
other down the halls until we found the waiting mops. We began to mop   
mutely.   
  
Later that day I told all of my new acquaintances about   
detention. Minako looked disappointed, but I promised that we would   
bond some other time. I gave Makoto some money and asked her to buy me   
an alarm clock that would not bring me to acts of violence to shut it   
up. Ami and I had not planned anything, so there was nothing to   
disappoint her about, other than the fact that I was a juvenile   
delinquent.   
  
The days passed in the same routine of waking up, going to   
school, going to detention, doing homework, and going to bed.   
Sometimes other people would be in detention, but Mamoru and I were the   
only ones who were there consistently. Mamoru and I bickered bitterly.   
The girls were convinced that it was sexual tension, and not barely   
controlled hostility, that kept us from speaking civilly to each other.   
It was hard not to scoff at their overly romantic ideas. Makoto had,   
thankfully, not just run off with my money, which had occurred to me   
might happen, since I did not know her that well, and did not know how   
much to trust her. She had bought me an alarm clock, a Hello Kitty   
alarm clock, identical to the one that I had destroyed, which yelled   
'Good Morning'! The irony of the situation sent me into peals of   
hysterical laughter.   
  
Finally, the last day of detention arrived. I awoke to the sound   
of Hello Kitty chirping 'Good morning'. I turned my head and looked   
over at the clock. "I would have to disagree with you on that one,   
Kitty. I'd say it's a pretty crappy morning," I said groggily. I   
pushed myself up in bed and climbed out. The regular boring morning   
routine ensued. Then the boring regular day routine, and finally,   
detention.   
  
I really could not bring myself to not enjoy detention. It's   
just so hard to be depressed when you know that some arduous task is   
finally ending. Mamoru and I sat at our desks, doing homework. When   
the teacher left the room for a moment, Mamoru turned to me and said,   
"Are you going to apologize, or not?"  
  
I looked up at him, disgusted. "Not. You should be apologizing   
to me. You've been antagonizing me since the second that you met me."   
My voice crescendoed.   
  
He glared at me and said, "You made me late for class. I'm not a   
model student anymore. The principal doesn't trust me anymore. And to   
top it all off, I had the first detention in my life because of you."  
  
"Don't give me that shit, Mamoru. You stopped to make fun of me   
and made yourself late. So you were late for class. Life goes on. I   
was insulted that you even suggested that it was my fault that you were   
late, and I'm insulted. You make it sound like school's your entire   
life. And let me be the first to tell you, Mamoru, if that's the case,   
get a life. You know, for such a jerk, you really are a goody-two-  
shoes." I turned away from him pointedly.  
  
I could see his shocked expression in my mind's eye. "I'll say   
one thing for you, Odango Atama. You certainly are frank."  
  
"Thanks," I deadpanned.  
  
I could hear him sigh. "What I mean to say is that, well-"  
  
"You're sorry? You make it sound like saying it is the most   
painful thing in the world."  
  
"I'm used to being right. I've never actually apologized before.   
Oh yes, and stop cutting me off in the middle of my sentences. It   
wasn't going to take that long."  
  
I cocked an eyebrow and looked at him. "I'd say eternity is a   
long time, Mamoru."  
  
"Sod off, Odango Atama. I'm trying to be friendly."  
  
"Well, you certainly do take your time, don't you? Alright, since   
you were trying to be friendly, let's call a truce." I held out my   
hand.  
  
Mamoru stared at it for such a long time that I was about to put   
it down, but at last he grasped it, and we shook. It was all very   
orderly, very businesslike. "So tell me, Mamoru, why did you choose   
today of all the days of detention to demand an apology?"  
  
"I kept expecting you to apologize, and I felt that I was giving   
you ample opportunity to do so. So when today rolled around, I finally   
stopped deluding myself into thinking that an apology would be   
forthcoming voluntarily. It was your last chance, and you didn't take   
it, so I took action." He shrugged.  
  
"Well then, I'm sorry, though I don't know what for. So anyway,   
since we've agreed that you won't call me Odango Atama anymore, or pour   
buckets of water on each other, why don't we go to the Crown to   
celebrate being free of detention?"  
  
"Wait, wait, wait," Mamoru grasped his temples. "When did I   
agree not to call you Odango Atama?"  
  
I rolled my eyes. "Well, duh. Of course that's part of our   
truce."  
  
Mamoru narrowed his eyes, and I could tell that he found this   
unpleasing. Finally, he said, "Fine. Where the hell is the detention   
proctor, anyway? Did he go all the way to Vienna for his coffee, or   
something? I mean, we could be having wild sex on the floor while he's   
gone."  
  
I had to laugh at that one. The thought of that actually   
happening was truly humorous. We turned back to our work and tried to   
look busy in case the proctor came back suddenly, as they have a   
tendency to do. And just like that, we were not at odds anymore. I   
hesitate to use the word friends. We had not yet put in the time   
commitment and come out of neutral terms into amicable talking.   
  
We exited detention that day and went into the Crown. We sat   
down at a booth and ordered drinks. "So, Mamoru, tell me something   
about you." I've never been good at small-talk.   
  
"Like what?" he said.  
  
"I don't know!" I said, exasperated. "Anything! Something about   
your family, maybe."  
  
"Alright. Both of my parents were killed in a car crash when I   
was six. I was in the back seat, and somehow managed to survive. I   
live by myself, but I was adopted by a pair of working parents.   
They're both business people, and they travel a lot, so they set me up   
by myself, and I've been mostly independent all of my life. What about   
you?"  
  
"My parents divorced at my suggestion when I was fourteen. My   
father never recovered from the divorce. He had trouble letting go of   
the stability of having a family. He's a suicidal manic depressant who   
has been restrained in a mental hospital for the past year because the   
court thought that he was a danger to himself and others. My mother   
went to graduate school again, this time to be a veterinarian, not a   
lawyer. She'll be finished next year. So, that's me."  
  
"So basically, both of our lives are fucked up."  
  
"Yeah, I guess so," I said in agreement.   
  
I do not remember our conversation for the most part after that,   
so it could not have been that important. I remember liking Mamoru a   
lot more than I originally had. Or rather, I like him a lot more now   
that he wasn't being a jerk to me.   
  
Mamoru said that it would be good to go home now, before it got   
dark. I agreed, and as I stood up, I tripped over my bag and went   
flying onto the floor. "Graceful, Serena, very graceful," he grinned   
playfully.  
  
"Shut up, Mamoru," I grimaced in good humor. It was kind of   
funny how just yesterday, that conversation would have been entirely   
unpleasing, not teasing. Relationships really do change the meaning of   
words.   
  
Mamoru helped me up, and we parted with a wave. As I neared an   
alley, I heard a voice say, "So the truth is revealed."  
  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
  
Well, that's the end of the chapter. Talk to me.  
  
icefaerie0719@earthlink.net for critiques or comments. Or you could be   
conventional and use the critiques page on Moon Romance. Ciao. 


	6. Why Teenage Girls Are Crazy

Chapter One: Why Teenage Girls are Crazy  
  
  
  
Friday, May 30th, 2003  
  
Quote: "To be positive is to be mistaken at the top of one's voice."   
  
--Ambrose Bierce  
  
I've been away for so long! I've probably lost most of my few   
  
readers by now, but better late than never. So, it turns out that I've   
  
been away so long that I forgot who I was going to have pop out of the   
  
alley at the end of the last chapter. Sad, really. So, basically, I'm   
  
kind of flubbing it, though I do still remember the general outline of   
  
the story.  
  
My apologies to everyone. You see, I wrote the other chapters   
  
over the summer, when I had lots of idle time, and then I started   
  
attending boarding school, and my free time evaporated. Anyway, I'm   
  
kind of back, and I should be updating more regularly by June.   
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Minako jumped out, her hands clasped excitedly. I would like to   
  
state for the record that all people who pop out of allies should be   
  
eternally damned. Now, I realize that the streets of Tokyo are busy,   
  
but honestly, when people lurk in allies, one gets the distinct   
  
impression that they were standing there, waiting.   
  
Smiling a knowing smile, Minako turned towards us, leaning her   
  
weight on one hip. Placing her hands on her hips, she smirked, "You   
  
two are friends. The whole bickering was just a façade. I bet you set   
  
up the entire incident with the principal as a practical joke. You   
  
wanted to cheer everyone up." Her eyes lit up and she threw her hands   
  
over her head. "You're partners in crime."  
  
Feigning contemplativeness, she speculated, "Come to think of it,   
  
I think there's a lot of latent sexual energy between you two."  
  
I felt that now was the time to crush Minako's fantasies, and   
  
they seemed to be becoming gradually more ludicrous. I dragged my palm   
  
across my face before beginning. "Minako, stop. Just stop." Turning   
  
and glancing at Mamoru, I delivered the first blow, "Minako, we didn't   
  
injure the principal on purpose. If we were going to play a practical   
  
joke, or were even close enough to coordinate one together, it would   
  
certainly not be one that we would get so easily caught at."  
  
Minako's face fell, and her entire body seemed to sag. "Second   
  
of all, Mamoru and I only recently came to speaking terms. And as for   
  
you absurd idea about pent up sexual tension, wherever that came from,   
  
kill it right now. It will lead you nowhere."  
  
"Serena Tsukino, ladies and gentlemen, American exchange student,   
  
drive-by dream killer," Mamoru clapped with exaggerated slowness.   
  
I scowled fiercely at him, but his lips only quirked up into a   
  
grin that he imagined to be sexy. "No, no, don't just give me the   
  
look. Please, shoot me down, too. It's much more gratifying."  
  
Wheels churned furiously in my mind, searching for the perfect   
  
comeback, "I'd kick you, but my foot has higher standards than that."   
  
And that was not it. Heck, it didn't even make sense. I turned   
  
to Minako. "Look, I'm sorry, but I had to pop the gossip bubble." I   
  
tried to continue more casually. "So, what brings you to lurking in   
  
the alley?"  
  
I almost expected something terribly witty and British to burst   
  
forth from her lips, but then, it was Minako, and while I was sure she   
  
had many endearing qualities, drollness was not one of them. Still,   
  
that delusion suffered a painful death when she said, "Why not?"   
  
I resisted the urge to send Mamoru a look that said, 'Well, she's   
  
an eggroll short of a pu-pu platter.' I could think of a thousand   
  
reasons why not, but I resisted the urge to list all of them. "So,   
  
anyway, where are you headed?"  
  
Every chipper, she replied, "Home!"  
  
I smiled and said, "Well, if it's in the direction we're headed,   
  
you can walk with us."  
  
She nodded vigorously and bounced into step with Mamoru and I.   
  
"She leaned out and glanced over at Mamoru. "Where do you live,   
  
Mamoru?"   
  
He plodded forward, never looking over at Minako, and woodenly   
  
responded, "I live to the west of school."   
  
"West? But we're walking to the south. You're going to totally   
  
out of your way. Why are you-" she stopped, suddenly, and that   
  
frightening smile appeared on her face again. "You were walking her   
  
home, weren't you? I'm right, aren't I? That's so gentlemanly! Chivalry   
  
is not dead! That must mean that-" I ground my foot into Minako's.  
  
I frowned at turned to Mamoru, searching his face for   
  
confirmation. All he said was, "Pretty girls shouldn't walk alone at   
  
night."  
  
Minako elbowed me rather hard several times wiggled her eyebrows   
  
at me. I imagined the sinister thoughts whirling around in her head,   
  
her secret plans for setting us up that I knew were coming. She was   
  
one of those people who couldn't resist a matchmaking opportunity. I   
  
guess she thought we just sort of fell into her lap, and who was she to   
  
say no? I considered rebuking her, but then, I had killed several of   
  
her fantasies that night, and I doubted the success of the one   
  
currently materializing.  
  
Minako peeled off several blocks later, but not before jabbing me   
  
especially hard one last time in the ribs and winking. I rolled my   
  
eyes, though it was too dark for her to see. "I'm sorry about Minako."  
  
I could hear the smile in his voice, "Don't be."  
  
We continued in awkward silence until I recognized my host-  
  
family's house. "Well, here's my stop," my voice cracked. It sounded   
  
excessively loud after the prolonged silence.  
  
"I'll walk you to the door," he responded simply.  
  
It sounded kind of strange to me, but I did not dissuade him. I   
  
pulled out my key and pushed open the door. I looked up in the face of   
  
an angry Mr. Tsukino. He glared right past me at Mamoru, giving him   
  
the evil eye. "You stay away from her, you punk, you hear me? Serena's   
  
under my protection while she's here, and if you touch her, I'll kill   
  
you."  
  
He dragged me inside and slammed the door in Mamoru's face. What   
  
a strange bunch of people I had fallen in with. "Mr. Tsukino, he was   
  
just walking me home."  
  
His face softened, and he patted my shoulder. "I was just   
  
worried, that's all. You can't trust anyone in this world anymore. If   
  
he does anything, you be sure to tell me, though."  
  
Sure, that was going to happen. I kicked off my shoes and ran up   
  
to my room, throwing my bag onto my bed, and sprawling over onto the   
  
bed with it, facedown. I started laughing, hysterically, for   
  
absolutely no reason. I flipped myself over and sat up, laughing so   
  
hard that tears poured down my face. Shingo, walking by, stopped at my   
  
doorway and stared at me strangely. "Teenage girls sure are moody.   
  
Dinner's ready."  
  
I nodded, realizing that I probably looked a mess, and wiped the   
  
back of my hand against my eyes. "Thanks, Shingo. Tell your mom that   
  
I'll be right down."  
  
I threw my uniform onto the floor and pulled on jeans and a t-  
  
shirt that a friend from home had given me. It said, High School   
  
Jewish Society, and on the back, 'Challah Back.' I thought it was one   
  
of the more brilliant t-shirts I owned. I plodded to the bathroom and   
  
splashed cold water onto my face. I looked up at the cabinet mirror,   
  
watching the water cascade off of my face. My tired and bitter face   
  
stared back at me, more like a 60 year old than a sixteen year old. I   
  
reached up and dragged the corners of my mouth into a puppet-like   
  
smile. I made a face and grabbed a towel and patted my face with it   
  
before bounding down the stairs.  
  
I bowed politely at the doorway and apologized for being late,   
  
but Mrs. Tsukino only waved noncommittally and ushered me towards the   
  
table. "Itadakimasu."   
  
We all ate in silence, the only sounds our chewing and the clink   
  
of chop-sticks, or, in my case, the fork against the plates. I sipped   
  
my water slowly and glanced around the table. Everyone seemed a little   
  
too intent on their food for my tastes. I knew it was coming, but I   
  
still was not prepared for it, "So, Serena, who was your friend?" Mrs.   
  
Tsukino feigned innocence.  
  
"His name is Chiba Mamoru. He was walking me home. He said that   
  
pretty girls shouldn't walk alone at night."  
  
Shingo made a gagging noise and Mr. Tsukino scowled. Mrs.   
  
Tsukino kick him under the table and smiled. "Well, isn't that sweet."  
  
"Well, I think he wants to get into your pants," Shingo grinned.  
  
Before anyone else could respond, I quipped, "Do you even know   
  
what that means?"  
  
I took it from the way his cheeks reddened and his sudden   
  
interest in his food that he did not. "You'll have to bring him by for   
  
dinner sometime. We'd be happy to have him," Mrs. Tsukino said, more   
  
to Mr. Tsukino than to me.  
  
I opened my mouth to say something, though I've forgotten what   
  
now. But, before I could, the phone rang shrilly.  
  
"Now who would call now? Right in the middle of dinner, too,"   
  
Mrs. Tsukino frowned.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Yay, I'm done. I'm sorry that it's shorter than my other chapters, but   
  
I didn't see a point in continuing the story in this chapter, and I   
  
didn't really have time, anyway. I just wanted to get a chapter out to   
  
prove that I'm really back and kickin'. No consistent updating until   
  
June, but whatever.  
  
Please REVIEW!  
  
icefaerie0719@earthlink.net 


	7. Two Birds with One Stone

Chapter Six: Two Birds with One Stone  
  
Quote:   
  
"The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any   
  
reaction, both are transformed."   
  
-Carl Chung  
  
Monday, July 7th, 2003  
  
Once again, I was stupid and didn't update for months. After I promised I would, too. But you do   
  
know what would encourage me? You know it's coming…more reviews! Hey, hey! Perhaps I   
  
should put that down in larger letters, since few people even botherto read the author's notes unless   
  
they're in bold. First rule of advertising, catch the eye.  
  
PLEASE REVIEW THE STORY!  
  
Ooh, crap. I just read the last chapter, and I realized that I have no idea whom I had calling on the   
  
phone. I know. My sheer brilliance astounds me, too, sometimes. Anyway, after the (somewhat   
  
unnecessary) usual disclaimer, the chapter will start.   
  
Sailor Moon, all character images and likenesses are copyrighted by Takeuchi Naoko, Dic,   
  
Cloverway, et al. The author of this fanfic is in no way affiliated with any of the copyright holders.   
  
No infringement is intended.   
  
Turbines to power! Thrusters to speed! Go, Batmobile!  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"I'll get it," I said, sliding out of my chair and walking over to the telephone.  
  
"Moshi moshi. Tsukino residence." I said blandly.  
  
"Moshi moshi. Is Serena available?" an unfamiliar male voice asked.  
  
"Speaking."  
  
"Jeez, Odango, could you sound any more aggravated? You don't like phones or   
  
something?"  
  
"No, I don't. Because with every conversation there's an inevitable awkward phone   
  
silence," I explained, annoyed.  
  
Silence on the other end. It stretched out for what seemed like hours, and finally, Mamoru   
  
said, "Was that an awkward phone silence?"  
  
I grinned. It wasn't funny, really, but Mamoru made me smile. "Yes. But, you know, I   
  
somehow found it preferable to the awkward phone conversation that followed it."  
  
He chuckled on the other end. "Anyway, I was thinking, do you want to go to a movie on   
  
Friday?"  
  
I nearly dropped the phone. In fact, I did, and fumbled with it for a few moments to keep it   
  
from hitting the floor. "Wait, repeat that," I gasped out.  
  
I could feel him grinning at my expense on the other side of the line. "Do. You. Want. To.   
  
Go. To. A. Movie?" he asked with exaggerated slowness.  
  
"Like, on a date?"  
  
"Like, as friends."  
  
My heart sank for a moment, but I shook it aside. Why was I disappointed?   
  
"Yeah, sure."  
  
His response to my acceptance was indiscernible. "Right, then. I'll pick you up at six on   
  
Friday. See you at school."  
  
The phone clicked, but I only put it down when the operator's voice came on, telling me to   
  
'Please hang up and try again.' I dropped the phone into its base and walked back into the dining   
  
room, stunned. I answered Mrs. Tsukino's perfunctory questions about who was on the telephone.   
  
The rest of dinner continued in silence.   
  
I analyzed my conversation with Mamoru over and over. If we were going to the movie as   
  
friends, then why was he picking me up? Wouldn't friends just meet at the theater? Why did he call   
  
me during dinner instead of just suggest it at school? The more I thought it over, the more I   
  
convinced myself of ulterior romantic motives. I was really a hopeless romantic at heart, and being   
  
asked out by a boy, with romantic intentions or not, made me giddy.  
  
Friday Morning, at School…  
  
I stared blankly at the board while the teacher talked about-something. When the bell for   
  
lunch rang, I quickly shoved my stuff into my bag and raced out of the classroom. I stood in the   
  
hallway and exclaimed, "I'm free!"  
  
"Glad that you found class stimulating," a now familiar male voice mocked from behind.   
  
One would think that I would be wise enough not to say anything stupid or embarrass   
  
myself, because Mamoru would always manage to be there with a sarcastic comment. Then again,   
  
maybe his being there wasn't so bad.   
  
I snorted. "Right back at you. I saw you in front of me. You've done a fine job mastering   
  
the fine art of falling asleep with your eyes open."  
  
"At least I made an effort," he sounded somewhat offended.  
  
"To what, drool all over your books? Anyway, you want to eat lunch together?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
We made our way out to the school courtyard and I flopped down in the grass under my   
  
favorite tree. Mamoru made his way over much more slowly. "No, please, take your time," I   
  
called to him.  
  
Mamoru made slow motion movements of walking before resuming his normal pace back   
  
to the tree. We both pulled out our lunches. I scarfed my down hungrily. When I had finished, I   
  
noticed Mamoru looking at me with an amused expression. "What?"  
  
"I was just thinking how genteel you are when you eat."  
  
I shrugged off the comment and eyed his lunch, only half finished. Mamoru attempted to   
  
shield his lunch from my sight, but not quickly enough. I launched myself onto his lap and grabbed   
  
a piece of tempura before he could yank his box away. I adjusted myself on his lap and popped the   
  
tempura into my mouth. "That was delicious," I concluded.  
  
"I'm glad you enjoyed it," Mamoru grouched.  
  
He stuffed the rest of his lunch into his mouth, and his cheeks bulged. "That's attractive," I   
  
giggled.  
  
I almost smacked his cheeks with my hands, to make the food spray out. But then I   
  
remembered that I was in his trajectory, and stopped. "Can you even chew with that much food in   
  
your mouth?"  
  
Apparently he could, and slowly his cheeks returned to their normal size. "You're very   
  
comfortable with physical contact, aren't you?"  
  
"What do you--" I stopped, realizing that I was still on his lap. "Oh. I was just trying to   
  
distract you."  
  
"Yeah, I know. I mean, not that I'm complaining, it's good for image to have girls sitting   
  
on your lap, but you have the boniest butt known to mankind," he said, shifting his legs to stress his   
  
point.  
  
I slid off his lap and lay down on the grass, my legs still draped over his. "I know you can't   
  
get enough of me, but there's plenty of me to go around, Odan-Serena. There's a nice, big janitor's   
  
closet on the third floor…" he trailed off with a wicked grin.  
  
I snorted derisively. "Can't get enough of you? I'm just too lazy to move my legs. As for   
  
the janitor's closet, you can go have a tryst with the mop."  
  
"You wound me, fair lady. I have to get to class early, anyway. You want to move your   
  
legs?"  
  
"No, but I will, anyway."  
  
"Thanks. I'll see you tonight, okay?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah. Have a good time in class."  
  
I could hear Mamoru wandering off to the school building, and closed my eyes. A shadow   
  
blocked the glorious sunlight streaming down onto my face. I cracked open an eye and stared into   
  
green ones. "Oh, hi, Makoto."  
  
"Hey. I was thinking, you wanna go to a movie with some people tonight? I already got Rei,   
  
you remember her, the priestess at the shrine, to agree to come. Oh, and the British exchange   
  
student, Minako. So, what do you say?"  
  
"I can't. I really do want to go, but I already agreed to go a movie with someone else   
  
tonight. How about tomorrow night?"  
  
"Cool. I'll reschedule. Who're you going to the movie with tonight?"  
  
"Mamoru."  
  
Her eyes lit up. "Oh, I see how it is. You know, he reminds me of my old boyfriend."  
  
"Really? Oh, and before you start off asking prying questions, we're not romantically   
  
involved. We're just friends."  
  
"Friends who sit on each other's laps?"  
  
"Right," I said, blushing.  
  
"And flirt constantly?"  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about. We don't flirt. We've only known each other for   
  
like 37 days, anyway."  
  
"Oh, you counted the days."  
  
Damnit, she'd caught me.   
  
"And you do so flirt, every time you see each other."  
  
She continued, "Admit it, you like him. You seem awfully close for 'friends,' anyway."  
  
"I think our definitions of flirting are different. Don't you normally flirt with people you're   
  
attracted to?"  
  
"Oh, now you're just being silly. Everyone's attracted to Mamoru. And if you weren't, this   
  
conversation wouldn't embarrass you so much. And you flirt by anyone's definition, by the way."  
  
Makoto was too perceptive for her own good. It was just a crush, anyway, if I had to admit   
  
to any attraction. Maybe not even that.   
  
"Right, time for a topic change."   
  
"Ok, what do you think of Ken, the guy who sits next to me in Math?"  
  
I consciously kept myself from grinning. Time for teasing. "I think that he's a great guy,   
  
and you should date him immediately."  
  
"That wasn't what I was asking," Makoto said.  
  
"Well, what were you asking? If he's good in bed?" I asked innocently. "Because if that's   
  
it, I wouldn't know."  
  
Makoto blushed madly. "You know that's not what I meant."  
  
"I know. I'm sorry. And even if you weren't asking if you should go on a date with Ken,   
  
you wanted to hear me say that you should. Let me guess, he asked you out, you told him you'd   
  
think about it, even though you want to go, and you're merely seeking confirmation that you're   
  
right in wanting to date him. And my answer remains the same: he's a great guy, and you should   
  
date him immediately," I smiled reassuringly  
  
"Was I that obvious?" she winced.  
  
"No more so than anyone else would be. I've got to get to class. You'll remember what I   
  
said, won't you?" I winked as I stood up, and brushed off my skirt.  
  
  
  
That Evening…  
  
I turned in my mirror, checking my appearance. I dressed in low-rider jeans with a studded   
  
black belt, a red tank top, and matching red flip-flops. He did say we were going as friends, so I   
  
felt no real need to dress up. Not that I didn't want to look good, but Mamoru would probably   
  
show up in jeans and a t-shirt, and I didn't want to be overdressed. I wrapped red hair ribbons   
  
around my hair buns. After I dabbed on a touch of lip gloss, I rushed downstairs and sat on the   
  
couch, waiting expectantly.   
  
I glanced at my watch. 5:57. What a loser I was. I was supposed to be pretending to do   
  
girly things when he arrived, spraying myself with too much perfume or applying fake eyelashes.   
  
Or something like that. Just to look like I wasn't too eager. And there I was, waiting for him on   
  
the couch.   
  
'Well, why shouldn't I?' I snapped at myself. Mamoru and I were going as friends, after all.   
  
The doorbell rang, and I bolted from my seat to the door. I pulled open the door and found myself   
  
eyelevel with a muscular chest. My eyes drifted up to the face of Mamoru. As I had predicted he   
  
was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, though admittedly clean and un-torn. He looked me up and down,   
  
relief evident on his face.  
  
"Good, I was worried that you'd wear a skirt or something. That would make it awkward."  
  
"Make what awkward?"  
  
"Riding on the motorcycle," he explained simply.  
  
"Motorcycle! Don't you have to be older to drive one of those things? They're death traps.   
  
Death traps, I tell you!"  
  
"No, you don't have to be older. And I'm careful. What, you don't trust me?"  
  
"With my life--let me think. NO!"  
  
He looked a little hurt. "I promise that I'll be careful. Anyway, it's the only transportation   
  
to the theater. Unless you want me to carry you there?"  
  
He was back to himself, much to my relief. I sighed. "I guess I'll choose the lesser of the   
  
two evils."  
  
"And that would be?"  
  
I smiled sweetly. "Your mechanical death-trap."  
  
"Good, 'cause you're too heavy to carry."  
  
I socked him in the arm and closed the door behind me. At the motorcycle, Mamoru   
  
handed me a helmet. He placed his own helmet on and turned to me expectantly. "How come you   
  
get the cool helmet?"  
  
"Because I'm the cool one, of course."  
  
I rolled my eyes and pulled the helmet onto my head. I sat down on the motorcycle behind   
  
Mamoru. "Hey, where's your cool biker jacket?"  
  
"I am too tough and manly to need a jacket," he joked.  
  
"Well, shall we ride off into the sunset?"  
  
"Sure. Hold on tight," he said as he started off.  
  
I almost fell off. I flung my arms around his waist and hung on for dear life. Well, once I   
  
got comfortable, it actually wasn't that bad. Mamoru had nice abs, I felt. My hands drifted   
  
upwards to feel the rest of his torso. Mamoru said something, but it was muffled by the wind.   
  
"What?" I yelled into the wind.  
  
"I said, are you done feeling me up, yet?"  
  
Heat flushed to my cheeks and I quickly let go. Mamoru, expecting my reaction, grabbed   
  
my arm with one hand before I went flying off the bike. "Idiot, don't ever let go," he yelled to me.  
  
Too frightened to make a sarcastic comment, I went back to clinging to Mamoru's torso. I   
  
wished that I hadn't been so schoolgirl-ish when he'd asked me if I was done feeling him up. I   
  
berated myself for not saying something flirty like: 'No,' feel his chest, and then say, 'I'm done   
  
now.' Instead, I'd almost gotten myself killed. Sheer brilliance.  
  
"Sorry to get you flustered," Mamoru called.  
  
"I'm sure you are, you cocky bastard."  
  
We finally reached the theater, and I nearly threw myself off the motorcycle in my effort to   
  
escape. I handed Mamoru my helmet, and he put both of our helmets on the back of the motorcycle.   
  
I felt my hair. "Oh great," I muttered.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I've got motorcycle hair! It's the child of hat hair and convertible hair. Half of my hair is   
  
mashed down, and the other half is sticking out in all directions."  
  
Mamoru snorted. "I don't know what you're talking about. You look beautiful. Shall we   
  
go in?"  
  
I nodded, blushing, once again cursing my lack of composure. Mamoru's off-hand   
  
compliments really sent me off balance, even if he didn't really mean them. We walked to the box   
  
office. "What movie are we seeing?"  
  
"Attack of the Killer Slug Creatures."  
  
"Mamoru, that sounds like a B-Movie 50's horror flick."  
  
"It's actually supposed to be scary, not cheesy. Oh, I know what you're worried about.   
  
Don't worry, if it gets too scary, I'll be sitting right next to you," he teased.  
  
"Mamoru Chiba, if you think I'm going to clutch your arm and scream in fright whenever a   
  
monster horribly slimes on someone, or whatever killer slugs do, you are sorely mistaken."  
  
Mamoru didn't respond, just bought tickets and ushered me into the theater. "Hey,   
  
shouldn't I pay for my own ticket, Mamoru? I mean, since we're going as friends, and all."  
  
"Don't worry about it. You can pay next time."  
  
We sat down towards the front of the theater. The tedious previews passed and the   
  
beginning credits appeared. I was distracted, however, by the couple loudly making out in front of   
  
Mamoru and me. "I thought we were watching 'Attack of the Killer Slug Creatures,' not 'Attack of   
  
the Face-Sucking Leeches,'" Mamoru whispered in my ear.  
  
"I vote for pelting them with M&Ms," I whispered back.  
  
"Plain or peanut?"  
  
"Peanut."  
  
Suddenly, the couple fell out of their seats and onto the floor with a loud thump. They   
  
apparently hadn't noticed. "I guess they're drunk as well as hormonal," I muttered under my breath.  
  
I could tell Mamoru was smiling. The rest of the movie passed in relative peace, or, at least   
  
the monsters actually appeared. One of the slugs slorped out of an air duct onto the heroine. To be   
  
fair, I didn't grab Mamoru's arm and scream. I shrieked, jumped into his lap, and hid my face in   
  
his shoulder. "Tell me when it's over."  
  
Mamoru patted my back smugly. "It's ok, Serena, I'm here for you. But really, that is the   
  
fakest looking slug I've ever seen."   
  
I rolled my eyes, not that he could see. "I don't think fakest is a word. And duh, Mamoru,   
  
that's why they're called slug 'creatures'."  
  
"No, really, it's kind of funny."  
  
I crept back into my seat and stared at the screen. "What the hell is that supposed to be?"  
  
"The slug creature, of course."  
  
"It looks like a liver," I stated.  
  
"Yes, yes it does."  
  
I felt incredibly stupid for being scared. Well, not so much for being stupid as for leaping   
  
onto Mamoru. And for believing Mamoru when he said that the movie would be scary, not cheesy.  
  
At the end of the movie, Mamoru and I emerged into the lit lobby, blinking at the harsh   
  
light. "So, what did you think of the movie, Mamoru?"  
  
"Complete crap," he concluded.   
  
"Agreed. You want to go for ice cream?"  
  
"Sure. There's an ice cream place next door."  
  
At the ice cream parlor, I rattled off my order. "I'd like a scoop of chocolate chip cookie   
  
dough, a scoop of s'mores ice cream, and a scoop of vanilla-chocolate twist. Oh, and I'd like hot   
  
fudge and sprinkles on that."  
  
"Because who needs unclogged arteries, anyway. I'd like a scoop of coffee ice cream."  
  
We took our orders and sat down at a table. Mamoru stared at my order. "What?" I asked,   
  
annoyed.  
  
"I'm sorry; I was trying to find your face behind that mountain of ice cream."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, Mr. Health. Just eat your nasty-flavored ice cream while I scale my   
  
mountain."  
  
His head snapped up and he stared me in the eyes. "Nasty-flavored? Coffee ice cream   
  
tastes perfectly good!"  
  
"Oh please, it's like licking cement. The point of coffee is the caffeine, not the taste. So   
  
what's the point with coffee ice cream?"  
  
"I'll have you know that coffee ice cream tastes nothing like cement, not that, unlike you, I   
  
know what that tastes like."  
  
"Fine. If you don't attack my perfectly unhealthy dessert, then I'll ignore your perfectly   
  
nasty dessert."  
  
"Serena, I have a confession to make."  
  
"You're a drug lord? You're part of the Japanese mob? You wear Sesame Street pajamas to   
  
bed?"  
  
"No. Actually, I was going to say that I think of you as a good friend. I'm really glad to   
  
have met you. You're the only one who can, I dunno, ruffle my feathers."  
  
I choked on my ice cream. "Ruffle your feathers? Try knock you out of your tree."  
  
He scowled. "I'm trying to be serious."  
  
"And apparently on the way down your got a stick up your ass. I was just teasing."  
  
"Okay, I think it's time for a new metaphor."  
  
"Agreed. Though, to be truthful, I really was impressed with your emotional outpour. Even   
  
though I had to restrain myself from smacking you upside the head for saying something like,   
  
'ruffle my feathers'."  
  
I scraped my spoon against my bowl and licked the last of my ice cream off of it. Mamoru   
  
drove us back to my house, and once I relaxed, I actually enjoyed the ride.   
  
Mamoru walked me to the front step and paused. "So, I'm not familiar with the decorum   
  
when dropping off a female friend at home. What would be the appropriate parting gesture?"  
  
I thought for a moment. "A passionate kiss."  
  
Mamoru looked at me suspiciously for a second before shrugging. He didn't believe me,   
  
but I didn't care. "I think that can be arranged."  
  
I leaned back against the door frame and closed my eyes as Mamoru's head bent down   
  
towards mine.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Well, that was fun. No more chapter! Is it a cliffhanger? I don't know, you tell me.  
  
So, PLEASE REVIEW! I'm hoping for more than like, two, like with the last chapters. You guys   
  
could manage 10 or 15 reviews, couldn't you?   
  
Oh, I also need to know. Would it be better if I used the Japanese forms of address, like Tsukino-  
  
san, Makoto-chan, etc? Oh, and should I sprinkle Japanese words into the story? Oh, and do you   
  
want me to use the Japanese way of saying names. e.g. Chiba Mamoru, or the American way,   
  
Mamoru Chiba?  
  
Email: icefaerie0719@earthlink.net 


	8. The Importance of Not Being a Spaz

Chapter Seven: The Importance of Not Being a Complete Spaz  
  
Quote: "You got your tongue on my gums!" -Quest for Camelot  
  
Update: Sunday, November 02, 2003  
  
Author's Notes/Uncontrolled Babbling: Hey, I'm actually writing two days in a row, even though I'm not going to post for a few days. I'm really frustrated with fanfiction.net, though. I always post a story, and then discover when I look for it that it's on the second page. How the hell do I get it in a more prominent position so more people will actually read it? Also, my new summary is crap. I'm really not good at that. And when authors wrote in their summary, 'the story is better than the summary,' I was skeptical. I thought, 'Well, how competent of an author can they be if they can't properly string two general sentences together?'  
  
I now see the error of my ways, and I certainly hope that my summary isn't reflective of the quality of my story. Oh yes, and someone sent me an email saying that I use big words. I'm sorry, but I have no idea what you're talking about. FULIGINOUS. Take that. Anyway, no more bitter ranting. It's kind of sad, I can rant for hours without really thinking, but writing about a page of the story takes me forever. I also realized that I write with a stream-of-consciousness sort of style, like, I don't actually do any real planning, just write and pray that it goes well. It's worked pretty successfully, but I think that maybe I'll work on that.  
  
*insert regular copyright shtick here*  
  
Wonder twin powers activate! Form of next chapter!  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
And I pressed the doorbell. I'll admit it. I panicked. I'd never been kissed, after all; so I did the only thing I could think of. Mamoru's face was inches from mine when the door swung open to reveal Mr. Tsukino. I screamed, slapped Mamoru lightly (so as not to injure him) and yelled, "Pervert!"  
  
I rushed inside the house and watched with delight as Mr. Tsukino took an umbrella, the closest weapon he could find, to Mamoru's arm. "Get out of here!" he yelled, whacking Mamoru repeatedly.  
  
Mamoru shot me a furious look before dashing off, Mr. Tsukino in hot pursuit, brandishing his umbrella. Mr. Tsukino stopped at the gate, still waving his umbrella menacingly. "And don't come back," he yelled at the retreating motorcycle.  
  
I almost collapsed on the floor from laughter. I was reduced to wheezing, having run out of air. I quickly sobered before Mr. Tsukino re-entered the house. I thanked him gravely. Mr. Tsukino assured me that he would take care of Mamoru if he ever came back, and I smiled with feigned gratefulness. He also told me that the next time I shouldn't slap Mamoru, but sucker-punch him. Not sure whether or not he was joking, I put on a neutral face and walked to my room.  
  
I couldn't quite wipe the smile off of my face for the rest of the night.  
  
Next Morning, at School.  
  
At the first class of the day, Mamoru slid into the seat next to me. He looked no worse for the wear, just a little peeved. He hissed into my ear, sending chills down my spine, "That was pure evil, Blake."  
  
I pouted innocently. "I don't know what you're talking about. A mere slip of the hand. And since when are we using last names, Chiba?"  
  
I turned back to the front of the class to avoid his heated gaze while the rest of the students filed in. The teacher began. I could feel Mamoru's watching me, still. "Slip of the hand, my ass! You slapped me, called me a pervert, and sicced your psychotic host father on me! I'll have umbrella-shaped bruises on my arm for days," he whispered harshly.  
  
I flicked my eyes coolly to him, praying that my cheeks would not flush. After all, he was very close, and very attractive. Especially when he was mad. I suppressed the thought. "Please, Mamoru, I'm trying to listen to the lecture."  
  
He snorted loudly. Haruna-sensei paused her lecture and turned to Mamoru. "Is there a problem, Mr. Chiba?"  
  
"No, ma'am, just a cold."  
  
I choked on my own spit, and began hacking loudly. "Ms. Blake, are you alright?"  
  
I nodded, still choking. Haruna-sensei sighed. "Well, you two are no use as you are now. Why don't you both go to the infirmary? You're obviously distracted, and you're distracting the class in turn."  
  
We both stood and exited the classroom. Once outside, Mamoru turned to me again. "Well?"  
  
"Well, what?"  
  
"Are you going to apologize?"  
  
I turned to him. "For what?"  
  
"You know very well for what. I thought that we were friends."  
  
"Just because we're friends doesn't mean that I can't have some occasional fun, does it?"  
  
"Not at my expense," he grumped.  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry, Mamoru," I cooed, patting his arm, "but it really was worth it."  
  
I was suddenly aware of how much I wanted to grab him and kiss him when he pouted. I smacked my hand mentally. Bad Serena, bad thoughts.  
  
"Well, I'm glad that someone had fun," he growled, though somewhat more gently.  
  
I grabbed his sleeve and tugged. "Don't be that way. Come on, let's go the infirmary. They'll notice eventually if we don't."  
  
Mamoru shrugged and allowed me to lead him. The nurse greeted us at the door. "What seems to be the problem, dears?"  
  
"I have a cold," Mamoru said simply, and jabbed me in the stomach.  
  
"I had an uncontrollable coughing fit, but I think I'm fine now. I was sent just to make sure."  
  
The nurse nodded, turning to Mamoru. "Mamoru, dear, do you think that maybe your immune system didn't fully recover after the accident. I mean, very few people get colds at this time of year. And you do still look a little pale."  
  
I furrowed my eyebrows at Mamoru. Accident? What accident? I made a mental note to interrogate him later. "Probably. But I don't think that the cold will really be damaging. It'll pass, Nurse Misao."  
  
Nurse Misao turned to me expectantly. "Do you need a check-up, or are you feeling better now?"  
  
I shook my head, and Nurse Misao said, "You both go back to class, then."  
  
We walked down the hallways. I contemplated a good, gentle way to ask about the 'accident.' "What accident was Nurse Misao talking about?"  
  
Bah, close enough. He glanced at me. And then it happened. We were just standing there, and all of a sudden he was kissing me. I'll admit it, I'd secretly fantasized that my first kiss would be somewhere romantic with someone I was desperately in love with. Or that I'd at least be dating him. Well, anyway, what I'm trying to say is, I really didn't expect it to be in the middle of a school hallway in a foreign country, when I should have been in class.  
  
I fell back against a school locker and ran my hands through his hair, vaguely aware that I'd have a very large bruise on my head for days to come. Now, I'd never been kissed before, but I have to say, I highly approved of Mamoru's skills. Suddenly, it occurred to me what I was doing, and I planted my hands on his chest, firmly pushing him away.  
  
"I think we got it right that time," he grinned.  
  
I giggled and mentally slapped myself. No, no more schoolgirl. "You're just trying to distract me. It's not going to work."  
  
"Fine, fine," he threw up his hands in defeat. "Meet me in the arcade after school. I'll talk to you there."  
  
At the Arcade.  
  
I sat at the counter, swinging my legs and staring into space. I heard a whoosh of air as someone sat next to me, and turned to Mamoru. "It was a motorcycle accident."  
  
I blinked once, then twice. "I would have been okay with a simple, 'Hello.'"  
  
He scowled at me. "Hello. Can't you ever be serious?"  
  
"Touchy, touchy. And no, I can't ever be truly serious. Being serious depresses me, and no good has ever come of it. So, anyway, motorcycle accident? I'd think it'd have taught you a lesson about speeding on that death trap."  
  
"It was raining. I turned a corner too sharply and skidded out into a car moving the opposite way." He shrugged. "I got into a tangle with a couple tons of metal, and the metal won."  
  
I spun around on my stool to face him. "What happened to you? Are you OK, now?"  
  
I furrowed my eyebrows and looked him over hurriedly, as though injuries would magically appear now that I knew he had been hurt. When he chuckled, I looked into his eyes, crinkled with laughter. "You know, Serena, that's what I like about you. You try so hard to pretend you're cool and disaffected, but deep down you're just a big softie, and a worrywart. It makes me wonder what you were like pre-parental-divorce."  
  
I grabbed a milkshake from the counter and took a long slurp. "Giggly and prepubescent."  
  
"Much like now."  
  
I socked him in the arm. "And you tell me I can't be serious? But really, I'm listening."  
  
Mamoru sighed a tired sigh. "I lost a crapload of blood, broke my collarbone and a leg, suffered from internal bleeding, and went into a coma, apparently. I woke up a couple of months later."  
  
"You have no flare for the dramatic. Well, that story at least explains why you were so ghastly pale and sickly looking at the beginning of the school year."  
  
Mamoru feigned hurt. "Ghastly pale? Sickly? I rather pictured myself as sort of angelically pale, yet still rakishly handsome." He did, not that I would ever admit it. He flipped his hair back and flashed a devastating smile.  
  
"What do you think now?"  
  
I willed myself not to blush, cursing myself for my weakness. A month ago, this would not have been a problem. I put my hand to my chin, briefly considering. "I think you look like an Herbal Essences commercial, except without the orgasmic moaning."  
  
"Thank God for that," Motoki said as he passed by with a customer's order.  
  
"So, Mamoru, you want to hang out tonight?" I asked in my best attempt at a casual voice.  
  
Mamoru looked at me skeptically. "If I do, will I be attacked?"  
  
"I can't guarantee that," I smiled sweetly.  
  
"Fine, fine."  
  
At Serena's House.  
  
Mamoru and I sat on the couch, staring blankly at the TV. My brain registered that people were talking and that a background was moving back, but it was all a blur. When Mamoru shifted closer to me on the couch, I snapped back into reality. His arm slid onto the couch cushion above my shoulders. "Serena, can you tell me what exactly we're watching?"  
  
"Nope. But I think Gen just cured Keiko's incurable brain disease and now they're making passionate love on the hospital bed," I leaned my head back onto his arm.  
  
"Ah, how silly of me not to have figured that out."  
  
I could feel his breath in my hair, and suddenly became aware of just how close Mamoru was. "Mamoru-"  
  
"Serena-" he began.  
  
"You go first, Serena."  
  
"'K. Um, I don't think I can do this."  
  
Mamoru and I turned to face each other. "Do what?"  
  
"I don't know. This!" I pointed to his arm.  
  
"Serena, we're friends. Friends touch each other."  
  
"Yeah, but it's hard to be friends when I know you want to stick your tongue down my throat. You stole my first kiss, you know!" I said, exasperated. Damn me and my verbal diarrhea. That hadn't been what I'd meant to say at all.  
  
Mamoru flew off the couch and started ranting. "I want to stick my tongue down your throat? What are you talking about? You're the one who's been flirting. And, if I remember, correctly, you didn't seem to adverse to it at the time. I made it clear from the get-go that this was going to be a strictly platonic relationship. So I made a mistake, can you blame me?"  
  
"Don't you dare pin this all on me, Chiba Mamoru! You were the one getting all cozy on the couch!" I screamed, pushing myself up off the sofa to face him.  
  
As I yelled, I wondered why we were yelling at each other. I wasn't even sure what we were mad about. I'd never gotten so riled up as I did with him. We always seemed to be arguing. I've always hated arguing, because when you get to the point of arguing, no one's going to change their mind about anything, just get angrier.  
  
"You know what? I'm going home. You're a complete brat. It's always about you, all the time. Everything everyone does is a personal affront to you. I don't know why I bother. I can never go right with you! It's been like this since we met, fluctuating between, 'Oh, Mamoru, you're such a good friend!' and 'You little rat-fink bastard!' Grow up, Serena. I'm not dealing with this anymore," he turned on his heel and started walking to the door.  
  
"Fuck you, Chiba Mamoru. Fuck. You," I shrieked, desperate to say something crushing, anything.  
  
The only response was the front door slamming. I waited until I heard the motorcycle's engine roar before collapsing onto the couch and screaming into a cushion.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Like, OMG, an update! No, but seriously, I had some free time, surprise of surprises, after months without it. I really will try to update more, but I was having serious writer's block in addition to having no free time. Also, I'm trying to rekindle my interest in the story. And while I've gotten great and positive reviews, I really would like to have more so I know that people are even reading "Love and Its Glory".  
  
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